Harry Potter and the Last True Pure-Blood
by AwfulLawful
Summary: Eighth Year would have been horribly boring if not for one of the Ministry's new laws; that every Witch and Wizard take a potion that would reveal their Blood Status. The intent was to prove there were no more Pure-Blood lines left. Wrong.
1. Avus Revelare

I HATE Naga fics, mostly because I have yet to find one I like. I complained about this after a few drinks and heard, "Fine - if they all suck then write one yourself!"

...kay.

* * *

_"Why, there isn't a wizard alive today that's not half blood or less._" ~Hagrid

Draco had never wanted to skip a Potions class so badly in his life. Several Slytherins had tried, in fact, but they had all been caught and sent back or threatened with steep penalties if they failed to attend. Professor Slughorn was having them brew a potion today that, despite many complaints from parents and students alike, was now a requirement from the Ministry. It was an old potion once used as early as 200 C.E. by Pure-Blood lines to ensure those marrying in had no contaminated blood. Once drunk it would scan the body and detect creature genes or curses transmitted by blood contact. If there was Veela, Merfolk, Giant, Werewolf, Vampire or any other blood besides Human then the potion would detect it immediately. Then, a small orb of light would appear to hover over the crown of the drinker's head. For a Human the light would glow blue, but for anyone with creature genes present it would glow red.

There was a reason this potion was no longer used among the Pure-Blood lines anymore. There was a very high probability of a red light, and so to keep their lines at least credibly pure families were forced to stop using it as early as the 1300's. Even by then there were very few Pure-Blood lines willing to marry Muggles or Squibs; no, they far preferred Veela or other attractive creatures that had magical talent to the common non-magic folk. As it was now the likelihood of a blue light was a virtual impossibility to anyone who had been taught to value their pedigree. Instead of perpetuating amongst the future Witches and Wizards of the world romantic ideals of a 'superior, pure-blood' line, the ministry had stepped in to shatter the spirits of any who still believed their largely falsified family trees.

And to add insult to injury, they insisted on searching for creature blood instead of Muggle blood. Every student in their final year of school was now required to brew and drink this potion and the results would be clearly visible to the class. The message was this: Pure Blood no longer exists.

The requirement extended beyond the school. It had already been carried out in the Ministry. Those not on trial for Death Eater activities had taken it voluntarily, mostly at Ministry functions and parties celebrating the war's end. Those on trial had no choice; they had to take the potion and face the facts. Even Lucius and Narcissa had, on the stand during their trials, been forced to take it before the court and display their red lights.

As far as anyone knew there were no Pure-Blood lines left. All of the lights thus far had been red aside from a select few Muggle-Born whose families would, obviously, be mostly human throughout. It showed how much the world had changed in such a short time after the war that those few individuals either found themselves relieved to be married to someone with a red orb or deliberately sought out a mate with one. Nobody but the oldest families still wanted to be associated with blood purity in any fashion, even if it only meant pure Human.

One, the Daily Prophet reported gleefully, had intentionally contracted Vampirism to rid themselves of it.

As they brewed most of the Slytherins whose image of the world had by now been rather devastated did so with the grim determination of the condemned walking to the executioner's block. They knew without any doubt they were about to receive absolute proof of their tainted blood and it wouldn't even be their right to keep as a secret. Most were despondent. Many were nearly inconsolable. Still, they knew they were on laughably thin ice even being allowed to continue their educations at Hogwarts at all and completed the task as expertly as they knew how. They simply wanted to get it over with.

Draco concentrated on his work fiercely.

Pour. Mix. Mash. Cut. Scoop. Stir.

He consciously dismissed the thought of what the potion would do, that he would have to drink it, and the fact that his light would be just as nastily red as Weasley's hair. His mask of the obedient student was flawless, firmly in place, and he was determined that nothing was going to dislodge it no matter how utterly disappointing the next few minutes would likely be.

On their side of the classroom the Gryffindors brewed with excitement and expectation. Granger had finished hers and helped Weasley finish his very quickly after. She sported a blue glow while he proudly sported his red. Eventually they had begun to lean on each other (Draco quite suspected his children would have an awful lot of Weasleys to deal with in their school years) and the combined lights blurred to an annoying purple color, which made them giggle like idiots. Potter was still brewing, as was his partner Finnigan. Both of them were ready for the last step.

As was Draco.

Calmly, betraying nothing of his inner turmoil, he put the tip of his wand on the potion's surface with as little contact as possible while maintaining a physical connection. Uttering a whispered "Avus Revelare" he allowed a trickle of his magic to seep into the milky white liquid that would allow it to search his blood and his Core. As he was the last Slytherin to complete his potion, he had the honor of setting the pace for their next move.

Nobody in their house wanted to drink alone, so they had made a pact the night before to drink together. As Draco prepared the vial, filling it with the correct dose, he sneered at the irony of it all. This was without a doubt the most meticulously he had prepared a potion in his life. He'd taken as much time as he possibly could, got it right, and even made sure to wash the vial twice. It was perfect. It was the sort of work he'd be praised for.

He wanted to throw the damned thing against the wall.

In perfect unison the Slytherins tipped back their vials. A surge of light the color of their neighbor's ties blossomed around them. They only had a moment to dwell on it, however, before a loud and predictable wet sounding explosion came from the Gryffindor side. Draco retreated until his back was against the wall and craned his neck to see, and was surprised that it hadn't been Longbottom this time.

* * *

There were many consequences of war, Harry knew, not the least of which was this; after a certain number of near death experiences dulled the panic reflex, any accident that didn't kill you became absolutely hilarious.

This explains why the first sign that Harry would survive the searing pain of something very, very hot being all over him was the sound of his friends laughing hysterically to his left. For a moment he couldn't for the life of him recall what had knocked him down, where he was or even which of his friends in particular were present to laugh at him in the first place. Eventually he had to open his eyes and find out, which was difficult since they seemed to be caked shut.

Indeed he was alive, so he smiled a bit before coughing in a weak attempt to join his friends in their mirth at his expense.

Harry wondered why his body hurt so much. Perhaps his Animagus transformation had finally worked properly, which would explain the now fading burning sensation. He felt a brief surge of satisfaction at that thought. Then, after testing his ability to move and finding very human hands and fingers, he frowned. What had happened, then? His vision swam as if he were both under water and entirely too drunk, and the water itself was very angry with him.

Looking up he saw a large glowing ball of red light hovering over him. It was annoying, so he shut his eyes again. His friends continued to laugh.

"Thanks for helping me up, guys," he drawled sarcastically.

"I'm not touching you, Harry," Seamus chuckled. "No way."

Harry's frown deepened in his confusion. Slowly, as his vision cleared and his head stopped spinning, Harry realized his body felt tingly and uncomfortable, particularly his lower half. "Ugh. I feel like one of Binns' classes. Bits of me keep falling asleep."

This, of course, only made them laugh harder. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the familiar sound of Slytherins whispering to each other. He couldn't tell if they were pleased with his predicament or not. He thought it likely they were either hoping they wouldn't get blamed for something they didn't do (as was wont to happen recently) or trying to figure out how to avoid getting blamed if it was their fault.

"Mr. Potter!"

The volume and proximity of Slughorn's voice made Harry wince. "Ow. What?" he asked. Now he remembered where he was; Potions. They had been brewing something... Harry didn't think it had been volatile. Then again, he had a talent for causing even the most docile of potions to go wrong even if Malfoy wasn't sabotaging it. It would seem he had botched this one rather spectacularly.

"What happened? You made the potion perfectly! I watched every step!" Slughorn was wringing his hands and looking rather ill. He worried over Harry because, most likely, he didn't want to be known as the Professor that had let Harry Potter blow himself up.

"Would you mind," he asked calmly, "If you let my thoughts catch up to the rest of me before I answer that?" Professor Slughorn paled a bit and nodded. For his part Harry remained placidly on the floor. It was the only stable thing he had at the moment, and besides the cool stone that helped with the aftermath of that burning feeling he was quite certain he'd only fall down again if he tried to get up just yet.

*Orange* he thought momentarily. *Why am I orange?*

"I just don't understand what went wrong!" Slughorn muttered, upset.

"I do," Hermione said. "We infused the potions with our magic. Like lighting a candle to guide it through us to do what it needed, right? Well... have you ever known Harry to do something in little bits like that? When you told us to infuse the potions, you forgot to stress how much... and Harry lit a bonfire. He overwhelmed the potion, that's all."

"Oh. Oh, of course." Slughorn had relaxed a little. "Did a bang-up job of it too, Mr. Potter. That's supposed to be white, you know?"

*Ah. That's what it is* Harry looked down at himself at the potion that was, apparently, still seeping into him. Instead of the milky liquid it was supposed to be, his potion had turned a rather frantic fluorescent orange color. Once it had hit him during the explosion it had puffed up like a big angry marshmallow and stuck. His face was the only part of him visible. It also inexplicably smelt of cucumbers, which was odd because that hadn't been an ingredient. "Is someone going to try and get this off me, then?" he asked.

Slughorn rushed back to his desk and began to mix things to dissolve the mess.

Harry continued to lie there. His thoughts had begun to gather themselves back in an orderly queue. Harry deliberately shattered them again because he felt quite nice where he was and thought he may get the rest of the day off classes if he looked as if he'd been knocked sufficiently senseless.

"Are you in pain? Your face is all red." Ron looked a bit concerned.

"No." Harry said it again just to be sure, since he hadn't thought about it until after the first answer. "No. I feel a bit warm is all. The room isn't spinning anymore."

"It's disappearing!" Hermione shouted back at Slughorn, who was still mixing things.

The old man's face went white. "No it isn't. It's soaking into him. Quickly, throw water on him!"

Six wands pointed in Harry's direction. While the potion continued to deflate via entering Harry's system, the wands utterly failed to produce enough water to bother it. By the time Slughorn got back with his concoction to 'save' Harry, there was no more left.

Harry felt rather languid as he looked up at them. *Black.* He thought. *Why are my hands black?*

Hermione's voice was dead serious now. "Nobody touch him. Bright contrasting colors are never a good sign."

"Whatever you do, don't bite your tongue, Mate," Ron said unhelpfully.

"What?" Harry demanded, bored. "Oh, hell. Fine." Surrendering to the inevitability of visiting the hospital wing despite feeling perfectly fine, Harry sat up to look at himself.

There was a long, stunned silence. Even the Slytherins had stopped whispering.

"That's it." Harry crossed his arms, which were the only exterior limbs he seemed to have left at this point. "I'm dropping this bloody class."

"At least you're a pretty snake," Seamus offered.

A sudden shriek of alarm came from the Slytherin side of the classroom. Harry and the D.A. tensed with battle-honed reflexes, drew their wands and looked in the direction of the sound. Bullstrode was pointing somewhere in shock, her face a mask of horrified wonder. Harry's gaze followed the indicated direction to Malfoy, who bore a similar expression. He was staring at his hand, which would have been odd but for one thing; he obviously couldn't see the top of his own head and there were no mirrors around. He had lifted his hand to reflect the light of his orb, correctly guessing that may be the source of Bullstrode's fit.

His hand was illuminated with a faint blue glow.

Slughorn fainted.


	2. Targeted

Hello everyone! To those who asked about the Malfoy parents having red orbs while Draco's was blue: that will be explained here.

To Hollibell: I'm sorry. That last paragraph wasn't worded as well as it could have been. What Draco was doing was holding up his hand near his face at an upward angle so that it would reflect the light of his orb in a way that he could see it, sort of like using a mirror to see the top of your head with a less reflective surface. My bad.

On the length of chapters: I am currently suffering from 'Mombie' syndrome, A.K.A. New Baby Sleep Deprivation. Likewise pulling overtime every week seriously curbs hobby time. Chapters will be short and not nearly as detailed as I would like due to time constraints.

* * *

"I've always liked reptiles. I used to see the universe as a mammoth snake, and I used to see all the people and objects, landscapes, as little pictures in the facets of their scales. I think peristaltic motion is the basic life movement. Swallowing." ~ Jim Morrison

*Seamus was right,* Harry thought smugly to himself. *I _am_ a pretty snake.*

Ron had already pointed out that Harry's colors were ironic. He had literally transformed into a symbol of Slytherin... and had managed to hit a color from every House except that one.

His thick belly scales were a soothing milky blue as well as the thick stripe down the back of his tail. The rest of him was pitch, shimmering black with blotches of red down each side toward the belly, leaving strips of black cleanly siding the stripe following the spine. Thos colors didn't stop with the scales either. His stomach and chest all the way up his neck and face bore faint tinges of blue that shimmered on his skin when he moved even though he still had his normal skin tone there. The pattern on his back was a softer mimic of that on his tail and went all the way up to his hairline where, it would seem, his scalp and the area around his eyes had turned reddish. Down each arm were alternating v-shaped stripes of black and red ending in his hands being completely black with blue claws.

Nothing on him was green, which made his now vertically slit emerald eyes leap out at anyone looking at him quite brilliantly from the contrast.

[For anyone that can't picture this description well; Harry is based on the North Coast Garter - Thamnophis sirtalis infernalis]

Currently he was lounging by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, the warmth seeping into him in a way he had never experienced before. The thick scales of his reptilian lower body soaked up the heat and radiated it inward until he felt the thick muscles practically melt in contented laziness. Even when he moved the scales maintained the heat for a few more precious minutes, which meant he could warm himself on both sides if he turned often enough.

Ginny was sitting cross legged by his side using his back as a study surface since he had steadfastly refused to move away from the fire so she could put a chair where he was to use the table. At first she had tried to use him as a chair and sat on his back, but he had kept using the opportunity to look up her skirt so she had given up on that. As she wrote she noticed that his back was getting rather warm on one side and prodded him with her finger before lifting her papers.

"That side's done, Harry. Turn over." He smiled and did so and she continued writing on his chest while he lay there splayed out, intentionally posing for effect. "Do you know what kind of snake you are?"

Harry hummed thoughtfully. He'd been thoroughly looked over by Madame Pomfrey who, though she knew next to nothing about his current physiology, had concluded there wasn't anything actually wrong with him; he was simply a Naga. His relatively small fangs that irritatingly enough resembled vampire fangs when he had his mouth shut to normal human levels were no longer a worry. A quick investigation had proved that despite his bright coloring he wasn't actually all that venomous. He produced only a mild neurotoxin that wouldn't kill a human or even bother them all that much, but would effectively stun creatures the size of chickens or medium sized fish.

His torso maintained the slim Seeker's build and his reptilian body seemed to follow suit. It was very long; nearly six meters, or just under twenty feet, from his hips where the scales started to the end of his tail. It was far stronger than it looked though and Harry had more than once gotten the urge to squeeze things he'd wound himself around, even if it was just a chair he'd been trying to sit in. The scales adorning his body were far thicker than he would have expected from a venomous snake- more like armor than anything else.

"Constrictor," he decided out loud. It was really an intelligent design on the part of his genes; looking venomous so that your enemies would stay away from the head and attack the body instead while the body was actually the dangerous part had to be useful. He was a slender, sleek and toxic looking thing that inspired fear with the power and sheer physical might of a far larger creature.

"No cuddling for a while, then?" she teased.

He smiled at her and she smiled back in understanding. They had broken up a few days ago. There was love between them, certainly, but it simply wasn't that kind of love anymore. It had become increasingly apparent that they would be far happier as friends than anything else. The main problem was this; they had gotten together as a perspective couple as children after Harry had rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets. Back then she had been a Princess, just someone else that needed his help, and being with her would give him a stronger connection to her family than he already had; and he desperately wanted a family like that. The match made sense, it was convenient, and neither had a problem with it.

Now that they had grown up, however, things had changed. Harry had become possessive and coddling which, honestly, satisfied his Hero complex. He craved someone to take care of; someone that _needed_ him. This began to seriously infuriate Ginny since she was no longer a little princess; she was a warrior like the rest of them and could damned well take care of herself, thank you very much. She craved someone that needed her too, and Harry was not that person. They were great friends and would have even been good siblings, but couldn't be lovers the way they were; their personalities were simply too similar. It would have been like two alpha dogs attempting to rule the same territory with neither giving an inch.

They hadn't told anyone yet.

Both had decided not to say anything until this whole Naga thing had blown over. It would be noisy and annoying if anyone assumed Ginny had broken up with him over the transformation, not to mention his devoted fanfare's tendency to send howlers and trapped mail and other such things when they thought he was being threatened. For now they would continue pretending to date for safety's sake.

"I'm headed to bed." Harry said with a stretch.

"Will you fit in it?" she asked in sudden interest.

"...Hell, maybe not."

* * *

The next morning Harry woke feeling hungrier than he could remember feeling outside the Dursley's house. He slid off the big pile of pillows he'd burrowed into last night since he didn't fit on his bed anymore and went to the bathrooms to begin his usual morning rituals on half asleep auto-pilot. The first thing he did was wash his face. Then he brushed his hair, then began to brush his teeth. He felt something odd, so he pulled the toothbrush sideways just a bit so that he could see his cheek stretch out a little. Harry shrugged off the odd feeling and simply continued.

Still not fully awake yet, Harry opened his mouth as wide as he could to check his teeth the way Hermione had taught him. It had always annoyed her that Wizards never checked their teeth for any problems until they actually started hurting and it was hard to eat by then. He was suddenly faced with the gaping, fanged, frightening image of a snakes' wide open maw.

Instantly alert, Harry snapped his mouth shut and stared at his now completely normal reflection in shock.

Experimentally he pulled on one cheek and found it as flexible as elastic. Then he put his finger in his mouth and pulled gently down in the center of his bottom jaw, feeling it detach in the middle and separate quite easily under the pressure. He took a moment to compose himself before opening his mouth widely again. There was no pain, it simply felt like a stretching sensation. This time, now that he was thinking about it, his throat began to open up a bit as well. He could see down his own esophagus.

Beside each of his smaller, vampire looking fangs was a much larger pair that descended from his gums where they remained folded back when his mouth was closed, encased in folds of elastic flesh. Each dripped a little of his relatively harmless venom into his mouth. It tasted sweet.

Harry closed his mouth. His body morphed seamlessly from one form to another here, as if there was no problem with keeping either shape.

Harry palmed his face, then gave his reflection an annoyed look.

"Hell, he muttered. "I'd better not yawn when anyone can see me."

He was halfway to the Great Hall when he realized he'd been speaking to himself in Parseltongue.

* * *

"...are those Emu eggs?" Ron's question prompted an affirmative noise from Hermione, whose mouth was full.

"They're a pretty common potion ingredient, so it makes sense that we'd have a stock of them in the castle," Luna reasoned. She had been sitting with the D.A. at the Gryffindor table most mornings, so she was always close by.

Seamus grimaced as he shoved his plate away, where a thick sticky mess was spreading. "They're raw, though. Why'd the elves put them on the table?"

"I would guess," Harry said from behind them, "that they're for me." He picked up one of the large, dark emerald things and swallowed it whole without opening his mouth more than necessary. His lips and throat opened easily to accommodate it.

Ron winced. "That was disgusting, Harry."

"Do it again." a first year said, grinning.

Harry smiled at her. "I'll probably eat the whole basket." There were easily twenty of them and, from the way Harry felt, he would need all of them and possibly more to satisfy his hunger. He wondered how big his stomach was now, and how often he would need to eat. He swallowed four more as he listened to Hermione talk about being summoned to the Hospital Wing last night.

* * *

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stood on either side of their son as Madame Pomfrey did multiple scanning spells on him, determined to find out if he had put something on or in himself, an item or potion, that would cause his light to be blue. Slughorn had brewed the Avus Revelare twice more to ensure the results were accurate to the same result: blue lights. Everyone was understandably confused about it. To his credit, Lucius hadn't once asked Narcissa if Draco could have been someone else's son - something the entire Malfoy family had been asked by Pomfrey once already. The collective six eyed glare had actually made her retreat for a moment.

Lucius had already admitted to the Nereid and Veela ancestors responsible for his family's tainted blood. Narcissa, weakly, professed the possibility of a Goblin or two very far back in the Black line. More scans revealed not a trace of any in Draco's body.

They were all getting rather frustrated before Hermione arrived.

"Miss Granger," Poppy expressed in relief. "Perhaps you can shed some light on the situation."

"What could she know?" Lucius asked.

"Muggles have gotten very far in the study of genetics, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione came close enough to give him a sharp look. "Though I must admit I'm still working on my theories."

"Well, Draco's parentage has been assured-" Pomfrey started.

"I never doubted that."

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Narcissa nodded respectfully, pleased with that statement. Her fidelity had been called into question far too much that day, and she was ready to physically and in an entirely literal sense claw someone's eyes out, decorum be damned.

Hermione nodded back to her with a small smile. "Now, why don't you tell me everything you've found out thus far?"

As they spoke, something in Hermione's mind niggled at her like the scrabbling of a mouse in a jar trying to get out. She ignored it for a while until she realized why; it had been something she'd seen on the television and not read in a book. All of the facts and theories she had been working on since that morning in class snapped into place in an organized picture.

Hermione's eyes lit up with an epiphany so sudden it hurt her head. She gasped, covering her mouth before she shouted that she knew the answer as if they were in class. It was a childish thing to do and she'd been trying to stop it. Once calm she let go. "Um..."

The squeaky way she uttered that was quiet and shy, as if she had been hoping no one would hear it. However, everyone had realized long ago that one of her main purposes in the Golden Trio was to know everything (the other to keep Harry and Ron from being stupid enough to die). Their heads swiveled in her direction as if she'd calmly announced cheerfully the intent to spontaneously combust while they continued to argue with each other.

"Muggles call this an 'Atavism'." When nobody interrupted or asked questions, she continued. "It's a random recombination of recessive genes that can sometimes happen when parents share a common distant ancestry. Reviving traits long thought to be too scrambled to reassert themselves. Normally this would only be discernible if the traits were highly visible, such as a couple producing a child that seems to come from a completely different race. It would seem that Malfoy is the result of only the Pure Blood genes being passed from both Narcissa and Lucius, completely skipping over the rest. But- but the chances are nearly impossible! It's... it's the genetic equivalent of trying to hit a snitch with another snitch from a kilometer away by throwing it." Here she began to look mildly distressed and continued to mount the improbability in a desperate attempt to match the figures in her head. "During a storm... while riding the broom backward... blindfolded. Nearly impossible, like I said, but if enough people try it over a long enough period then _eventually _someone will manage it. It's the same mechanism that allows special gifts, like Parseltongue, to skip so many generations. James Potter didn't have the gift, nor did his parents or theirs, but each of them had the genes for it in their blood somewhere saved up for a chance rising when Harry happened to be conceived at just the right time with just the right mother to make it work. That-" she paused sheepishly. "That's what I think anyway. I'd have to look it up to be certain."

Madame Pomfrey knew better than to think Hermione would spout gibberish and, despite her fondness for magic, she was well aware that Muggles had studied far more into genetics with more logic in their heads than the Wizarding World could muster. She looked to the Malfoys and crossed her arms. "There you have it."

"So it's true." Lucius looked as pleased as a father could possibly be. "Draco is a Pure-Blood."

"That may not be as good a thing as you believe, Lucius," Narcissa said calmly. They went to a corner to talk in hushed tones. Lucius' face became progressively more worried as she continued.

Draco, who had thus far been silent and already seemed to understand the problem, asked to sleep in the Hospital Wing that night.

* * *

"What were they worried about?" Harry asked. He had swallowed all the eggs and had begun eating pieces of chicken, bones and all.

"Well, think about it." Hermione said. "I heard this morning that several people tried to break into the Hospital Wing last night. They only caught one, a Slytherin girl under Imperius. They traced the spell back to her Mother's wand. She'd been given a conception potion."

Luna frowned. "Oh dear. Poor Malfoy. How will he ever be safe again? The results of the Avus Revelare are to be made public."

"Not only the people after his genes will be trying to get to him," Seamus reasoned. "He's an assassination target now, too. How many people will want the last Pure Blood dead after the war? I reckon he's already in protective custody somewhere."

"With so many people out for him, will anywhere be safe enough?"

Seamus's question prompted a silence among them.

The first year girl spoke up. "Why doesn't Mr. Potter take him to the Chamber of Secrets? He's the only one that can get in, isn't he?"

Hermione beamed at her. "You're brilliant! Er... who are you?"

"Audrey Selwyn," she admitted her last name nervously.

"...didn't Umbridge-" Luna began.

Hermione shushed her.


	3. Virtues

_"It is an infantile superstition of the human spirit that virginity would be thought a virtue and not the barrier that separates ignorance from knowledge." ~Voltaire_

A week later and Slughorn had been getting nowhere with the restorative brew.

The best result they had gotten thus far was something that had made him shed his skin. Harry shuddered when he remembered that; even his human skin had shed a layer. It had felt weird and itchy, and now his scales were so smooth that one's hand kind of slid over them like they were covered in a thin layer of oil and his skin was baby-soft. Ginny hadn't had to pretend her interest in touching him all over most of the morning, and more than one of his friends had asked simply out of curiosity. Luna had been the worst; Ginny had almost slipped in her act by forgetting to act slightly jealous over it. Of course Hermione had figured out their ruse the second that had happened and promised not to tell anyone, but he was still annoyed by it.

Harry didn't feel particularly bothered by his body. He had never thought of snakes as creepy or disgusting, or even something to be afraid of unless they were trying to kill him. He was pretty content to continue with his studies and let the Potions Master figure out a way to fix him no matter how long it took. The potion Harry had charged way too much had succeeded in activating long dormant genes instead of simply searching for them. After going through what existed of his family records at the Ministry it had been discovered that the Potter line had Naga and Mermaid in their ancestry; the potion had latched onto the Naga traits because he'd inherited Parseltongue as an active ability and that connection was simply easier to get to.

It made Harry smug to know that Parseltongue wasn't a normal human ability; that meant that for all his posturing Slytherin himself hadn't been Pure-Blood either. Ha.

The only real problem was the nonstop interest in him that kept prompting people to paw at him. It had already become habit to sit coiled up and out of the way in the Great Hall and in classes as much as possible. He was strong and sturdy enough that it never hurt when someone tread on his tail, which happened often, it was only that some people seemed to be getting that close to him deliberately. Often so that they could brush against him to touch his scales. Harry had begun to feel rather molested by lunch and decided to eat in study hall where the rules kept contact to a minimum. The no talking thing helped immensely as well. One would think Harry would be used to the stares and whispers and general attention by now. He wasn't. Never had liked it much to begin with and now he was certain he never would.

If this transformation had occurred in second year Harry knew beyond a doubt he would have been lynched. The Heir of Slytherin talk would have made him a prime target for everyone from jealous Pure-Bloods to House Elves. Now that he had gotten rid of Voldemort the polarity shift was jarring. Those who valued blood purity were the targets and Harry couldn't be blamed for anything; no matter HOW snake-like he'd become. It made no sense that everyone seemed to want to blame a specific group of people for the world's problems. He just wished that they would grow up and decide once and for all that blaming was pointless if nobody ever made an effort to solve the actual problem.

Speaking of which. Why the hell wasn't Malfoy in protective custody?

When he got into Study Hall Harry noticed Malfoy immediately in the far corner. His head was down and he was concentrating on his work with the kind of magnificent focus only a Malfoy could muster in the face of so many heated stares directed at him. The chairs on either side of him were stacked with extra books to keep anyone from sitting near him and he was completely ignoring the three girls on the other side of the table who insisted on trying to gain his attention despite the fact that he was clearly uninterested. No matter the prompting he stubbornly refused to so much as admit they existed.

Harry recognized two of the girls, identical twins, as Flora and Hestia Carrow. Of course they would be after Malfoy's name and blood with their family's reputation. How they'd mustered the audacity to come back to Hogwarts at all after their relatives' reign he'd never know. The last Harry didn't recognize, but she was a Ravenclaw; definitely one of the families that valued purity. Rather than fighting over him the girls seemed to have decided to share - his blood was too valuable to keep to one family, and they were telling him so. The Carrows were just explaining the advantage of having identical twins as lovers as Harry began to advance on them.

His approach was silent and swift. As he headed toward a shelf to pick up a book on Magical Creatures he 'accidentally' knocked all three chairs over with a wayward slide of his tail so that the girls tumbled over backward and onto the floor. Predictably they shrieked indignantly at him, the whole room looked over and a Professor began to come toward them to see what was going on.

"Sorry! I'm not used to this yet. Are you alright?" he asked in the perfect guise of the concerned Gryffindor as he helped them up. The Ravenclaw girl allowed it - the Carrows did not. They glared at him as fiercely as could be excused by the situation.

"If you don't mind, Potter, we were talking to Draco." Harry couldn't tell them apart. Strange - it had been easy enough with Fred and George, though he'd often used the wrong name to humor their spoonerisms. Whichever one this was seemed to be the ringleader.

Harry pointedly looked to Malfoy, who continued to ignore them all. "Does it matter if he's listening?" he asked innocently.

"Not entirely, no. We just needed him to know something, that's all." The other twin turned to Malfoy and smiled in a way that Harry supposed was meant to be sweet. "Our cousins will be by to talk to you later."

Harry knew he didn't imagine the slight frown just visible on the edge of Malfoy's face. It was gone in an instant and the girls left. Harry slithered around the table and reached for one of the stacks of books, intending to move the chair to settle himself in a coil by Malfoy's side. Instead, the blonde slammed his hand on the pile and looked up angrily at Harry just long enough for the prominent bags under his eyes to make the Gryffindor's urge to protect rear itself up to an attack position.

"I don't want or need your help, Potter."

Of course he'd say something like that. It stung a bit that he wasn't even speaking in his normal sharp tones either. Those were the first words Malfoy had directed at him in a long time, and Harry hesitated to answer.

The suggestion to take Malfoy to the Chamber was a good one, though Harry hadn't told him yet. To be honest he was nervous about trying to talk to the idiot. They hadn't even spoken when Harry had returned his wand - it'd been sent with an owl. Malfoy never sent a thank you note or anything of the sort, not that Harry had expected one. The last time they had any sort of communicative contact had been after the trials when Harry had spoken for them. Court had been adjourned and everyone left except the Malfoys, who were still bonding in relieved silence when none of them had ended up in Azkaban. Harry turned to leave and a voice stopped him.

Narcissa thanked him verbally and with a clasp of the hand. Lucius had merely given him a significant look, though what it meant beyond an acknowledgement of a debt Harry wasn't certain. Draco had paused, hesitated, and then offered Harry a respectful yet tight bow. On their way out Lucius could be heard reprimanding his son for offering such an honorable gesture to a half-blood. Harry laughed about it and left.

Despite their differences, Harry couldn't leave Malfoy to be preyed on like this, especially after hearing he had already been to the Hospital Wing to be treated for a curse this morning. The boys were in on it now, trying to capture him for their sisters and cousins. That must have been what the Carrow twin had meant - they were summoning a brute squad or something to beat some sense into their target.

Harry was getting rather sickened by this. So he answered Malfoy's frustration with placid calm in the hopes that the truth would earn him at least a fair chance of managing this without bodily dragging the idiot to a safe place himself.

"Have you ever wanted to see the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked conversationally.

Draco snorted, never taking his eyes off the book. "I had expected you to plead for my cooperation in fulfilling your hero quota with a bit more tact. Then again, I shouldn't expect much subtlety from a Gryffindor; especially considering your new state."

"What do you mean?" Harry frowned. That had not gone the way he'd expected.

Malfoy sighed. "There are several main types of snakes, Potter: Constrictors, Venomous and Non-Venomous. Naga have one more type than that. They're called Verbero; whip tails or strikers. Technically they're specialized constrictors, but you get the idea." He rested his chin in one hand to look over at Harry with an annoyed expression. "It's a fitting choice for you, Potter. Subtle as a sledgehammer. After all, Gryffindors have never been known for tact, as you've just demonstrated, and why bother to poison or hunt or slowly asphyxiate your prey when you can just bloody smash it?"

Aside from feeling that he'd just been given a particularly scathing reprimand from Snape, Harry looked at the end of his tail with interest. It WAS thicker and had firmer scales than the rest of the bit leading up to it, and he was suddenly thankful for the information. "You're not pulling my leg, are you? It'd be just like you to try and goad me into breaking a portion of my spine trying that."

"You no longer have legs, and don't insult me," the blonde huffed. "Parselmouth or not - don't challenge a Slytherin on Snake Lore."

"...point taken. So, about your answer?"

"Yes, I have wanted to see the Chamber, but I'm not going with you. I've already been offered Auror protection from the Ministry. Unsurprisingly the two that arrived were female, young, and of the formerly believed Pure-Blood families with enough influence to get them there." He continued with enough acid in his voice to make Harry wince. "My Father has been trying to arrange meetings with various girls from his associate's families. My Mother has been hinting I should not be so faithful to the Castitas virtue. Even the bloody Headmistress has suggested I 'loosen up' and enjoy the ample opportunities that have been presented."

"I understand your frustration there," Harry admitted.

Malfoy gave him a hard, searching look and eventually returned to his book. "I believe you might, to a point."

"What did you mean by Castitas virtue, though?" he asked with interest.

"Bugger off, Potter." Malfoy snapped suddenly. "You haven't even mastered basic Latin and you think I'm going to allow you to guard me? I wouldn't let you guard my quills."

Though he tried several more times, Harry was now being ignored just as fiercely as the girls had been. He decided to give up and try again later. Later that night he asked Hermione about the Castitas virtue and understood with stark clarity why Malfoy was being so adamant about keeping his genes to himself thus far. It hadn't been something Harry expected of the Slytherin, but then again he did seem to honor the old ways as much as he knew how. Harry had a new respect for the blonde and packed his Invisibility Cloak for a walk to the Dungeons.

If Malfoy wanted to wait for marriage before having sex that was his right, but it might be easier if he could get around unnoticed.


	4. Swing and a Miss

My computer broke. Long story short: I had to save money for a new one. That's what took me so long to add this chapter. Everything on the old one was lost, so I had to rewrite this one, and the first half of the next one from memory. Sorry if the quality isn't up to par with the other chapters. I hate rewrites, and had no time to revise today.

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"_You know, you can touch a stick of dynamite, but if you touch a venomous snake it'll turn around and bite you and kill you so fast it's not even funny." ~Steve Irwin_

Their next attempt at Slughorn's restoration brew did not go well. Harry had not regressed to his human form at all. Once again he had shed his skin. This time, though, more than that had changed.

Harry looked as if he had matured several years at once. His skin didn't come off smoothly as it had the last time it had shed because it had split into several pieces as he grew. All around, he was simply bigger. The shape of his body hadn't changed and how lean and sleek he looked was precisely the same. He had just gotten larger; he stood a full head taller than he had before. 'Stood' being a relative term, of course. His muscles were only slightly more toned and his hair had gotten stiffer, though it was still as haywire as ever.

Several things were undeniably changed, though they weren't obvious at first glance. Harry's claws no longer resembled reptilian claws. They were humanoid nails but much thicker, and long enough to have a prominent point at the end. His smaller vampiric fangs had fallen out and the longer ones had enlarged and simply moved to take their place at the forefront of his mouth. Interestingly, the larger fangs had a sort of faux fang at the front, creating the illusion of the smaller fangs while still being attached to the larger ones.

Given the things that had happened in his life up to this point, it seriously irked Harry that he had essentially lost his baby teeth.

Hermione shook her head. "I think we need another Potions Master on this case."

"You think?" Ron asked incredulously.

After the pain of his transformation ebbed and he could breathe again, Harry let out a furious string of parseltongue that sounded foul even to those who couldn't speak it.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Hermione sighed. "Do I even want to know what you just said?"

Harry's eye twitched. "No. You'd be AMAZED the avenues of profanity parseltongue opens up. I don't even think most of it can be translated. Besides, what do you expect me to say in a situation like this, Hermione? _Monkey-feathers_?"

Ron looked to him oddly. "Monkey feathers? Do monkeys have feathers?"

"No, Ron. Harry was referencing a Muggle movie called the Wizard of Oz. The villain had flying monkeys."

"How did they fly?" he asked, confused.

Harry palmed his face as he resisted the urge to crush the chair he was around/in. "They had wings."

"Who-"

Hermione snapped at him, "The villain was a witch and she gave them wings!"

"I was going to say, 'Who names their land Oz?'!" Ron answered in a likewise irritated tone.

Harry growled at them. "I don't know, Ron! It had something to do with filing cabinets!"

Hermione gave him the blank, shocked stare she only got when she utterly failed to comprehend something. It was rather like watching, from a distance, a river suddenly stop running and start to flow backward.  
"What?" she asked quietly after a short pause.

"Children!" Madame Pomfrey groused at them. "Don't shout. This is not the Quidditch Field."

Harry was about to point out that she had just shouted too in retaliation for calling them children, but she shot him a glare, indicating the skin he had left on the floor. Obediently he slunk over to clean it up. Slughorn would want to examine it anyway, and he didn't want to cause her any more trouble than he had already. There was a horrendously crushed bed in the corner and a stern warning not to wind around anything alive or valuable still ringing in his ears. Even after the inhuman screech he'd let out when the potion had changed him – it had hurt like a Cruciatus – she had still managed to yell louder. Though Harry maintained it hadn't been his fault – involuntary muscle contraction due to pain didn't count. He'd resisted crushing everything he'd wound around so far, including Ginny, and Pomfrey was being unreasonable.

It added to Harry's persistent frustration that Malfoy was nowhere to be found. Apparently the git was too smart to sleep in the Slytherin dormitories or anywhere he could be located. After several hours of slinking around trying to find him with the Marauder's Map, Harry had simply given up and gone back to the tower.

And if he thought taking those stairs had been hard _before_, it was an absolute bitch _now_. The damned staircases kept trying to change direction while half of him was still on the blasted things. He was really getting tired of portraits tittering at him every time he had to yank his trailing tail away from certain doom only to unintentionally smack himself in the chest with it.

Malfoy had been right, too - the end of his tail was HARD and it felt like being bludgeoned by rocks.

And to top it all off, he was _hungry_ again!

Harry hissed discontentedly to himself as he waited for Slughorn to come and collect the skin. The man had left in rather a hurry once the change had begun, correctly guessing Harry might be a little bit miffed about it. If he made good on his promise to return with food, Harry could forgive him. For now.

Hermione looked at him with resignation when his stomach made a loud growl. "What have you eaten lately, Harry?"

"Well," he began. "Last night I had three whole salmon. They were pretty big. I'm not one for eating red meat raw, but the thought of sushi never bothered me. Yes, they were alive, like you said might help, but I'm still starving every morning."

Even for a snake his size, Harry was eating a lot more than he should. After reading into Naga it was concluded that they drew a fair amount of their magic from their metabolism rather than the connections most other creatures had with the magic through their Cores. Since Harry was a really powerful Wizard it was assumed he would have to eat a lot to keep up with his normal casting level. Now that he'd been trying for a good while that didn't seem to be enough.

"There's always the other option," Hermione pointed out.

"Should I leave for this?" Ron asked, looking a bit green.

"Yes," Harry and Hermione harmonized. Ron fled the room and went to have breakfast with everyone else. He'd heard the basic idea of this yesterday, and it creeped him out - especially since he didn't know Harry and Ginny had broken up.

"I just don't like the idea, Hermione." Harry slithered over to the fire and lay out there, waiting patiently for Slughorn.

Hermione sighed. "I know. But it's in the books. Naga are very active in creating their own power. The easiest way to do that is by eating large amounts, but we've already seen that's not enough for you. The most effective and long-lasting way to generate magic as a Naga is through frequent sexual activity. That's why they had so many spouses, and all the most powerful ones were notorious for being promiscuous."

Harry groaned. "I will not _ever _ask Ginny."

"That does seem a bit unfair. But you're, well... Harry Potter. Even if the situation is explained point blank, you'll have options. Not many people would refuse you. You might not even need to get attached. I'm sure they'll understand."

Harry made a silent promise to himself to find Malfoy and get him that damned cloak if it was the last thing he did today. "Have we met?" he asked, offering her his hand. "I'm Harry. I mindlessly latch onto causes and people without thinking about it first... kind of like a _Gryffindor_. If taking out a Mountain Troll together bound us as friends for life when I thought you were utterly insufferable just moments before, what do you think sex is going to do to me?"

"Er..." she hesitated.

"Right, so I'm just going to plan to swallow a lot more live fish," he concluded.

Hermione sat next to him and frowned. "Maybe you should reconsider eating red meat."

"Not live," Harry reiterated.

Hermione elbowed him playfully. "Wimp."


	5. Chance Meeting

To Zakaira: (who asked why I hate Naga fics for the most part) Mostly I have problems with Naga fics for the same reason I have a problem with Veela fics; they seem to be general 'creature fic' things. Keep in mind these are my personal vices and don't to apply to everyone - they simply are a problem for me in particular. 1) Destined Mates, removing the need for actual romance and interpersonal relations, implied or stated ownership of the submissive, A.K.A. sexual slavery; 2) Inability to resist the mating urge, which often results in situations closely resembling or outright stated rape, which isn't terribly bad in a story if not for the fact that the serious psychological consequences of it are never addressed and are often waived as the creature-character's 'right' as the Mate; see problem 1. 3) Mpreg. Seriously. I know magic does weird things, and even the gods get into it (Loki could probably use someone's toothbrush and get knocked up) but Wizards are caught in Mr. Seahorse situations FAR too often in fanfics; 4) Nobody seems to actually research the creatures before deciding to write the story involving them and 5) VORE and GORE. What. The. Fuck? O.o;; I've read one where the Veela actually had to EAT some of his Mate's flesh in order to solidify their bond. Not a little, as in an entire limb. It just seems like a particularly disgusting and tortuous method of increasing drama.

Note that there are some VERY good creature fics out there, with development and situation justification and even the destined mates and mating urge thing can be pulled off well if the magic behind it is explained, but it has to be a good explanation instead of a simple 'this is how it is' speech, especially if none of those things actually exist in the creature lore. Mpreg is sort of insane and ridiculous unless it is cannon, and the only fandom I am aware that applies is Fairly Odd Parents, and you MUST be a Fairy. DC tends to grow clones in jars, so technically it's not Mpreg.

I stand behind number 5 completely though. Ew.

jax: (who asked why having Draco is so important even if his children couldn't possibly be pure blood) It doesn't matter if the other family lines don't have pure blood: Draco does. So if he's a part of their family, they can claim to have the pur_est_ blood in their descendents, even if they aren't completely pure. It's a contest of idiocy. Think of it like a schoolyard contest of 'who has the bigger stick'. It doesn't matter if your sticks are ultimately the same size if your DADDY has a bigger stick, and you can brag about THAT. "I may not have pure blood, but my FATHER did, and that makes mine PURER than yours." Or, with your analogy, dirty water mixed with clean water is still dirty water; but it's a lighter color.

Hopefully this chapter makes up for the less detailed one last time. I appreciate your comments and will do my best to answer and incorporate suggestions.

Harry was having a bad day.

Malfoy had been in class, but he was being escorted to and from all of his lessons by a Professor, which made it impossible to get him alone to exchange the cloak. He refused to talk to Harry, but had succeeded in hitting him with a few Potions ingredients without getting caught anyway, the snotty prat. And on top of that, nobody would tell him where Malfoy's private quarters were. Apparently they were obligated to keep it a secret, even from those that wouldn't take advantage. No matter how much he tried to explain that he only wanted to help, the Headmistress turned him out of her office like he was a troublemaker on a Weasley Twins level.

Which, actually, might have made Fred proud of him. How many people had been knocked down the headmaster's office staircase after it had been turned into a slide? Probably not too many. He would have to tell George about it.

Harry had been slithering the halls - he'd finally been made a Prefect in his Eighth year and could wander as long as he pleased without being caught and sent back to his dormitory. This came in incredibly useful when he woke with hunger. It meant that he could go to the kitchens and spend time with the House Elves that were still awake and not out cleaning everything they could get their clever little fingers on. He was always welcomed warmly by them, though a few were wary of getting close to him while he was swallowing still wriggling fish and whatever eggs they could get into him.

Despite being rather swollen as full snakes were wont to be after gorging themselves with prey, Harry still felt rather like he needed something more as he began to head out of the Kitchens past the large pile of barrels by them. He and Luna were convinced the Hufflepuff dormitory doors were located in those barrels somewhere, but it seemed that their friends in that house had made it a joke and a point not to let them know that. Playfully, he stopped to recite some passwords he thought might apply.

"Why are you talking to barrels, Potter? I had thought you were smart enough not to speak to inanimate objects. Then again, I've been wrong about your mental capabilities before."

Harry turned around to see Malfoy frowning at him. He was holding a tray, so he had probably had the same idea as him and raided the kitchens. Though it really didn't count as raiding if the elves handed over anything you asked for with smiles and bows.

"How do you know I haven't found a snake or something to talk to, Malfoy?" he asked tersely.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him and snapped, "Because you would have been speaking parseltongue, you stupid berk, not shouting 'badger' and 'stripes' at it. Those are idiotically obvious passwords to begin with. Incidentally, you have to TAP the barrels in the right pattern to get in there, though I'm not sure which one is the door or what the pattern is. Not every House requires a password to get in, you know. I believe Ravenclaws have to answer a series of riddles."

"MUST you try to make me feel like an idiot every time we meet?" Harry sniped.

An amused scoff answered him. "You think I have to try?"

There then followed a mutually annoyed staring contest, which Harry won. This surprised Harry since Malfoy had never backed down before, but he had to admit the blonde looked exhausted.

"What are you doing here, Potter? I know you're a Prefect, but your rounds are near the towers and upper levels."

Harry patted his bare stomach. "I went to the kitchens."

"And how many elves has Hogwarts lost today?" Malfoy teased meanly.

Harry blanched. "Ugh, you right bastard. Don't say things like that."

"Not to your taste, are they? I know they're filthy little things." he smirked.

Harry hissed without meaning to, and Malfoy flinched a bit. "Don't talk about house elves that way. I still hate your father for the way I saw him treating Dobby."

Malfoy looked about ready to snark at him again when he suddenly whipped around. A gust of wind had rattled a window behind him and the blond whirled on it with his wand drawn. Harry was shocked still and didn't say anything until Malfoy had composed himself and turned around, flushed with anger and embarrassment. Harry was still angry. He wanted to strike out and make Malfoy apologize, but that was a lost cause when he sensed the other's fear.

"I've brought you something." Harry stated simply. "I wanted to lend it to you before, but I could never get you alone. Thanks for the lizard spleen in my hair, by the way. Prat."

"It's not my fault you're such an easy target. Why don't you pay-" Malfoy paused, looking with wide eyes at the gift Harry presented that obscured his clawed black hand as it was pulled from the satchel he'd kept it in. Malfoy swallowed and took a step back. "That's a Hallow, Potter."

"No, Malfoy. Really?" he asked sarcastically.

"Don't be snide. You can't just _give_ me a Hallow. They're... they're yours."

Harry got the distinct impression Malfoy was almost reverent of the thing. To Harry it was just as ordinary as he was. Just as he wasn't Harry Potter The-Boy-Who-Lived and the Hero, but was Just Harry; this wasn't a Deathly Hallow of Legend, it was a cloak his Father had left him for protection. And since Harry didn't need protection anymore, he'd let someone who did need it have it for a while.

"Exactly. It's mine, and I can do what I want with it." He wound his body around Malfoy so the prat couldn't run off, as it seemed he would do the moment Harry started to move forward, and draped the cloak over the now much smaller male's shoulders. Malfoy actually squirmed a little as Harry moved the tray he was holding to the floor and fastened the clasp he had begun using after he inherited the Black Vaults. It was a lovely thing - silver and gold moon and sun that joined in the middle to form a perfect circle, with the moon overlapping in a crescent. It had been Sirius's, but Malfoy could borrow it a while. After all, Narcissa was the man's cousin and after the incident in the forest he had trouble looking down on her. "This way you can sneak around without being seen. Slytherins like doing that, don't they?"

Malfoy frowned and looked down at himself, at the portions of him that disappeared as the cloak slid over them and the way his fingers still hovered out in the open as he used them to feel over the weightless, silken material. "This means something, Potter. You're letting me use an Heirloom of your family's line. A Hallow, no less! Without my asking, for the sake of protection. It's another bloody debt. Don't you think I owe you enough already? I _dread _the day you begin calling them in."

Harry rolled his slitted, green eyes that were glowing slightly in the gloom of the corridor. "Is this another silly Pure-Blood Tradition? I can understand the Life-Debt thing, but one doesn't argue over the cost of their garden hose when their neighbor's house is on fire."

"Some would. You think the world is a lot better than it really is. You should stop letting romanticism and luck guide you so much." Malfoy angrily elbowed Harry's coiled body to indicate he wanted to be released. Harry acquiesced and unwound to give him a path out, which Malfoy immediately scrambled through. "Believe me, Potter; if you keep believing that everyone is worth saving then you'll be all the more disappointed when they turn out to be wanting."

Harry frowned. "Wow. Malfoy, you need to sleep. I think the exhaustion is getting to you."

"That doesn't mean I'm wrong!"

"The people after you are desperate and misguided, not evil," Harry reasoned patiently.

"That doesn't matter much to the person facing their wands!" Malfoy's eyes were wild and shining, and set in dark circles.

"Why did you come out here without a guard?"

Malfoy faltered. "I can't eat in the hall. People keep slipping potions in my food and drink. And the Professors are unwanted company at night when I _can_ eat."

"What about me?"

"What _about_ you?"

Harry sighed. Of course Malfoy was going to be difficult. Harry would have to actually ask permission to guard Malfoy on his way back to his rooms. "I suppose I should put that more politely. Malfoy, may I join you?"

Draco's mouth almost formed the words that Harry could fuck off out of habit, but the gift of the cloak gave him pause. "...fine. But I want you to swear you won't tell anyone where my rooms are. Not Granger and Weasley, not any Professor as some of them don't know, or even that oaf Hagrid. Understood?"

Harry chuckled and raised a hand to swear. "Should I fail you I'll let George test his prototypes on me for a month."

Malfoy snorted as he bent to pick up his tray. "You've already martyred yourself once, Potter. That was enough."

"Thank you. Not many people think I've done enough yet. I'm still getting howlers from people that are angry at me for being in hiding last year. It sounds like popcorn outside my window some nights as the wards make them go 'foom'." Harry began to slither alongside Malfoy as the blonde began to head past the barrels and away from the kitchens and up the stairs to the first floor.

"Those poor owls," Malfoy droned.

Harry laughed. Malfoy was turning out to be astonishingly good company. At the very least they weren't trying to hex each other's bollocks off yet, though Malfoy would have a hard time getting to Harry's as they were now internal. He hoped that once he was inside the blonde's private rooms they could continue to behave themselves. With any luck, Harry thought he might be able to get the prat to sleep.


	6. Lessons

Zakaira: I completely agree. How hard is it to run spell check? Honestly.

Zikare: The Marauder's Map can't find rooms that the Marauders themselves didn't know about - that's why the Room of Requirement and a few of the hidden tunnels aren't on it. Draco's rooms fall under that category as well - they're safe rooms for a reason. Sorry for not explaining that. I know I wrote it at some point, but it must have been in the chapter I had to rewrite when my computer crashed. Thanks for pointing that out.

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Harry was increasingly forming the opinion that Naga were intentionally designed by some vindictive higher power to be anatomically awkward from a decency perspective. It had actually taken him a while to figure out where all his vital bits were. Even going to the loo was a chore, since defecating involved an opening about a foot and a half away from the end of his tail; meaning he had to drape that specific part of himself over the seat to eliminate. His cock was relatively where it was supposed to be, though his testicles were now internal. It sort of retreated into his body when not in use, but now that he was aware that sex was likely the solution to his hunger and weakness problems he couldn't help thinking about it - teenaged boy and all that - with the result that he often found himself with an erection at inappropriate times. An erection that, due to his new physiology, would be as subtle as a massive train wreck.

Luckily he had figured out this would be a problem rather early on and had taken to wearing the Naga equivalent to clothes, since his school robes didn't exactly cover the front of his body well. This was often just an elaborate sort of apron that hung down his front from the waist down, which Hermione called a loincloth despite the fact that he had no legs for it to go between nor anything in the back, since he had no arse to speak of. Luna had made it for him, for which he was grateful since she had actually managed to make it look like decent clothing instead of a _bloody __apron_, which Harry was going to call it in his own mind no matter what everyone else said. To make it match his normal colors it was red with black trim with light blue embroidery of a swirling design, and a series of thin jewelry quality chains as a belt. Far from making him look far too colorful and gaudy it seemed to even out the colors he had a bit by concealing a some of the overwhelming blue covering most of his entire front.

There were other things that went with it, like wide collars and sleeves that connected to them to hold them up or arm bands and what looked disturbingly like silver manacles with no chains on them. Naga seemed to be adamant in bare chests and there was nothing resembling an actual shirt. He now had several of these outfits in slightly different designs, which Hermione and Ginny had assisted in making with Luna. Though they were being very helpful, Harry couldn't shake his annoyance at the obvious fact that they were playing dress-up with him. And given his fashion sense they could be making him look absolutely ridiculous and he wouldn't be able to tell.

Clearly this was against the school dress code, but as Luna had helpfully pointed out to the Headmistress; the dress code was looser for those exorcising traditional dress for their species or culture - and Harry had clearly leapt over a species barrier that qualified him for these looser standards. McGonagall agreed seemingly the instant she figured out Harry didn't want to wear them, in the very Dumbledore-like fashion that meant she thought the experience would be good for him. So Harry got to wear whatever the girls had made for him or suffer their subtle, manipulative wrath. Given that Lunas' insanity, Hermione's brilliance, and Ginny's ruthlessness were against him on this, he decided to just wear the damned clothes despite his reservations about the style and excess of bare skin.

Luckily, Malfoy hadn't made fun of his clothes yet since he had allowed Harry inside his private rooms. That didn't necessarily mean Harry didn't look ridiculous, it only meant Malfoy was being nice enough not to comment on it.

Malfoy set his dinner tray down on the table in what appeared to be his living room. From what Harry could see there were only three rooms here; the bedroom off to the left, a bathroom to the right, and this living room. After living in dormitories where there was a common room, boys and girls bathrooms of a very communal sort, and shared bedrooms Harry had to admit this private arrangement was rather nice. It would certainly provide a sense of independence and solitude when one needed it most.

The fireplace blazed brightly after Malfoy cast a quick Incendio. He hadn't left it burn while he was gone and the room was a bit cold. Tensing against the chill, Harry moved himself closer to the fire. Malfoy perched himself on the armchair and tucked into his supper.

"If you want tea or something, you can get it yourself. There's a kitchenette in the corner there," he said dismissively.

Normally this would have annoyed Harry, but he wasn't actually expecting Malfoy to allow him inside let alone recite the password that opened the rooms when Harry could hear it. He was starting to get the distinct impression that Malfoy was lonely since he had to avoid his own Housemates as much as possible and, at this point, even his rival's company was welcome. Harry nodded toward the blonde in thanks and made himself a very large mug to help himself warm up in the cool room. He transfigured the mug out of a sugar cube because he didn't trust himself handling what was an obviously delicate teacup from the Manor, at least not without the risk of giving Malfoy the opportunity to snipe at him for holding it improperly or something.

Harry had learned recently about thinking of ways to avoid making testy people nervous in the first place rather than trying to salvage calm after the fact. With the entire Weasley clan in mourning over Fred, it had been a hell of a crash course in social delicacy. Harry hated the situation that had led to these lessons, but he felt he had matured a lot dealing with the aftermath and could now understand why so many people thought him abrasive as a child. He had been. The Dursleys hadn't exactly given him proper lessons in behavior and analyzing social cues when most children learned these things; the result being that he tended to speak without thinking first and fight when questioned. Now Harry knew better. Sometimes a situation called for the verbal and etiquette equivalent to walking on eggshells no matter how much someone loved you. And you had to watch your damned tongue out of common courtesy.

Malfoy was clearly on-edge and Harry resolved to behave himself no matter what the Slytherin threw at him.

For the most part he was silent and allowed the other to eat, only answering if asked a question and avoiding phrases that required a reply. Harry didn't move about the room despite feeling cramped where he was coiled up near the hearth and even made a show of looking approvingly at the decorations and photographs of the Malfoys on the mantle without reaching out to touch them. Somehow he seemed to be irritating anyway, and Draco eventually put down his utensils and glared silently at him.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" Harry asked nervously.

Malfoy snorted. "No. You've said everything right. Normally you rush at conversation with me like you're engaging in a battle. When the hell did you learn MANNERS, Potter?"

Harry couldn't help laughing. "Is the change really that obvious?"

"Like ice and water. I've been waiting for you muck it up, but it looks like you've actually learned something since we last met. I'm surprised."Malfoy set his tray down and sat up straighter.

Harry smiled. "Careful, Malfoy; that was almost a compliment. The world might end if you're too nice to me."

"Don't smile- your teeth are horrifying," Malfoy snapped.

Harry chuckled. "Much better."There followed a silence that Harry didn't quite know what to do with, but it didn't feel threatening or awkward, so he let it continue while Malfoy packed up his tray for the elves to collect later.

"Thank you. For the cloak, I mean. What do you want for it?"

"Pardon?"

"What do you want for it, Potter? I still don't understand why you're lending it to me in the first place. We're not exactly friends." Malfoy folded his hands on his lap and stared at Harry as if he were analyzing his every move. He probably was.

Harry took a pause to think on that. "We're not exactly enemies either." Malfoy scoffed at him. Harry chuckled again, a bit more warmly this time. "I mean that. There's a difference between enemies and rivals and it took me a long time to learn that. Voldemort was my enemy. You've always been my rival. Without you I don't know that I'd have gotten as good at Quidditch for lack of decent competition or tried as hard in classes as I did, little though it was. We've fought and pranked and constantly competed through most of the time we've known each other, but you passed up your chance to kill me, didn't you?" Malfoy's eyes narrowed a bit and he looked uncertain. Harry sighed. "I'm not explaining this well, I know. It's hard to understand it myself, really. I can't say that I'd try to stop you from leaving school over this whole situation of being attacked on a regular basis. But I know I'd miss you if you did."

Malfoy waited before answering as if he was waiting for Harry to say something else he could pick at first. "You are implying that a rival is a sort of friend, albeit not a pleasant one."

"I suppose I am," Harry agreed evenly.

"I've always made it a point to know who my friends are." Malfoy stood from his chair and walked around to the bookshelf, where he took a large blue tome off the shelf and began to flip through it. "I suppose it says something about your odd personality that I've missed one."

Harry couldn't help raising a brow at that. "What do you mean?"

"I mean no offense by this, Potter; but you've always been a bit of a Slytherin." He brought the book to the table and knelt to read through some of it, stopping to tap his finger where he'd found something important.

"Yes, I know. The Sorting Hat thought so, too."

Suddenly very still, Malfoy snapped his attention up at Harry again. "What did you say?"

Harry shrugged. "The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin. I asked for Gryffindor instead."

Malfoy stood, agitated. "Why?"

Harry slithered over to the table, trying to see what the blonde was reading. Malfoy slammed the book shut with the back cover up, so he couldn't. Harry frowned at him. "A lot of reasons. I'd just made a new friend that was sent to Gryffindor, I'd heard that a lot of Dark Wizards came from Slytherin and I wanted to avoid them since I already knew from Hagrid I was in trouble with Voldemort, the silly thing tried to bribe me into Slytherin with fame and glory while I was up there and I've never wanted that…"

"Anything else?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah – a blonde prat was mean to me and got into Slytherin. I didn't want to be spending too much time with him. Thought he might put snakes in my bed."

They glared at each other a moment before Malfoy slowly but surely started to laugh. "Merlin, I probably would have!"

"Hey!" The laughter proved to be contagious and Harry couldn't help himself.

By the time they'd both stopped Malfoy was actually smiling. "Slytherin. I should have known, Parseltongue and all. You're mad, Potter. Absolutely mad."

"Probably. Now what are you reading?" Harry asked. Sitting back, Malfoy opened the book again. Harry rolled his eyes. "If it was in Latin, why did you bother shutting it? I couldn't have read it anyway."

"Because I knew it would annoy you," Malfoy said simply. "It's a book from my father's library on creatures. Physiology, Countries of Origin, Abilities, Culture, Diets and other such things that may be of use to you. It has a lot of information on Naga that Granger won't have access to."

"…is this book illegal?" Harry asked with some concern.

Malfoy smiled in a way that would have been deceptively sweet if Harry didn't know him so well. "I guarantee this'll be more accurate than something in the school's library," he said, cleverly avoiding answering that question directly.

"You didn't answer my question."

"The information contained in this tome is not illegal."

"But the book itself is?" Harry pressed curiously. "How is that possible?"

"You don't want to know, but it isn't cursed or anything."

Harry wanted to growl, but bit his tongue instead. "Fair enough. But if I can't read it, then how do I know I'm getting accurate translations from you?"

Malfoy shrugged. "You don't. What choice do you have, though? I've got to do something to pay back your lending me a bloody Hallow, and this is something no one else you know can do. Now do you want what I have here or not?"

"You realize I never wanted you to pay me back in the first place?" Harry drawled.

"_Potter!" _he snapped, demanding an answer.

"Alright, Malfoy, I'll accept your 'payment'. Read whatever you think I should know."

* * *

Maybe it was because he was paying off a debt, but Malfoy had been oddly patient with Harry while he was learning what the book had to offer. Instead of getting irked with Harry when he didn't immediately understand something, Malfoy had paused to explain in more detail and offer examples and analogies. When Harry professed he wasn't certain he'd remember something Malfoy had written it down for him. Hermione always had a tone that implied she was inwardly enjoying the mental image of strangling Harry to unconsciousness if it took him more than a few tries to get what she was saying; yet Malfoy's tone had been as calm throughout the lesson as it had been when he had begun. Harrysincerely hoped it wasn't because Malfoy had missed his calling as a teacher; because if so then Hogwarts had severely overlooked that particular talent of his and was missing out on one hell of a Professor.

Harry actually wondered what it would have been like to learn Potions from Malfoy instead of Snape; and though the thought made him feel guilty about how he should have appreciated Snape more while the bastard was around he had to admit the idea was appealing. He made a mental note to talk to Malfoy about what he planned to do after graduation.

The facts he had given Harry were astoundingly useful. He now knew that red meat would help him, but that it didn't need to be live to be effective – he only needed to make certain he swallowed whole bodies including fur and bones. As disgusting as that was to think about, it was far better than the alternativesince the grief Harry would suffer feeling something slowly suffocate inside him would have literally kept him awake at night. Most especially because Malfoy had pointed out eating humans or other Naga was the most effective means of generating magic through feeding.

He also told Harry that Veela and Phoenixes were enemies for the most part in terms of species relationships. They could get along, but were likely to fight simply due to territorial defenses and the fact that they were both on equal ground in the food chain. Even in modern times it wasn't unheard of for either Veela/Phoenixes or Naga to hunt the other for food, so he should be careful around Fleur. His venom would be far more effective on both avian because Naga were intentionally bred to protect themselves from those two species, so if he did have to fight and didn't want to kill his attacker he should be careful not to bite them. A spray in the eyes or mouth could be equally as fatal as a bite, and Harry had been shown with a mirror the shape of his fangs would allow him to spit like a cobra over short distances.

Malfoy had spent a good deal of the time they had been studying examining Harry, asking him to open his mouth to display his teeth or move a certain way or explain anything he had noticed about scent, taste, sound or vibrations. Thanks to that they had now pinpointed the exact type of Naga he was and, consequently, which area of the world his Naga ancestor had come from: near the Mekong River in Thailand. At a certain time of the local year the water Naga would send flares into the night sky to alert the land Naga their hibernation was over and the territory was no longer shared, since the land Naga were only allowed near the river while their aquatic cousins slept. Over time the Muggles in the area began to celebrate the lights with an odd festival of their own and the Ministry of the area saw no reason to disrupt it when their worlds separated in the 1600's, so the fireballs continued even in the Muggle areas to this day. Harry was a descendent of one of those land-based Naga that primarily dwelt in caves and tunnels in the earth, which explained why he felt so at home in the dungeons now.

Harry's favorite conversation had been the various ways Naga were able to generate magic, because Malfoy was obviously uncomfortable with the conversation the instant they began discussing the method Hermione had suggested. Her theory was correct at the base facts, but Malfoy was able to elaborate them down to the last detail through his nervous rambling on the subject. It was clear that the blonde was precisely as inexperienced as his reluctance to 'engage in the opportunities presented' suggested and Harry had a hard time not teasing him for it. He succeeded in resisting, but only just.

Basically the conditions were as follows:

1: In order to use sex to generate magic, the Naga had to cause pleasure, not just receive it.  
2: Penetration had to be involved, though not necessarily genital-to-genital penetration, oral sex would work just fine so long as it was the Naga doing it and the recipient was either male and inside the Naga's mouth, or the recipient was female and the Naga's tongue was inside her at the moment of climax. Additionally, the book stated that any part of the Naga being inside the recipient's body would work just as well; tail, fingers, toes, etc...  
3: Consent was not required for the desired effect so long as the victim was restrained with the Naga's hair.

That last rule made both Harry and Malfoy a bit nauseous, so they had immediately moved on to the next topic.

Finally, Harry had learned something that would make Slughorn's involvement in curing his condition superfluous: with enough training, Naga could take human form the same way one achieved the Animagus form. Once he had that form perfected he would only need to retain his more primal body when he slept. Other than that he could function as a normal wizard, including the way magic was gathered from his core.

After everything he had gone through swallowing those ruddy potions this was a great relief. And a bit funny, too. It was just Harry's luck that he'd been working backward. According to Malfoy, who Harry trusted a bit more to know the intricacies of potion-making then Slughorn, Harry's condition was permanent. It was impossible to work backward from Naga to Human once the transformation had been achieved. That was no longer a problem, though.

If Harry wanted to be Human again he didn't need to reject his new body; he had to perfect it. That meant he had to learn how to be the best Naga he could be by embracing the instincts, senses and urges he was getting until his mind and body worked well enough together to achieve that change.

In return for continual use of the Potter Family's Heirloom and Hallow until the danger he was in had passed, Malfoy had promised to teach Harry how to be a Naga until he learned to change back into a Human. Somehow Harry was excited at the prospect of spending more time with the git. And eventually, when he was able to ride a broom again, challenge him to a Seeker's Game. After all, the fact that he had always managed to beat Malfoy didn't mean it had been easy.

Hopefully Malfoy would keep his promise to sleep at least eight hours before venturing out of his rooms tomorrow. It was the weekend, and they had been up all night studying that tome. Harry himself planned to sleep a while as well after breakfast - it was only about seven hours since he had eaten and he felt completely famished again. Hopefully there would be some meat he could swipe from the kitchens before he went to the Great Hall. Now that he knew he didn't have to eat live, he could swallow a chicken or two. Maybe even a small pig.


	7. Transformation Complete

You know what? We need more creature fiction that does NOT include the following: Destined Mates, Rape, Gore, Male Pregnancy and for heaven's sake stop making Draco so damned submissive. He's not. Penetration has nothing to do with one's role in a relationship; any henpecked husband can tell you that (Arthur Weasley anyone?). Bottom!Draco doesn't necessarily mean Submissive!Draco. He can be a snarky bastard if he wants to, damn it. And above all, we need more character development and easing into relationships. There has to be some reason and connection, and 'because magic says so' isn't good enough.

You know what? I'm now accepting suggestions for my next creature fic. What do you think? I'll need a suggestion on what character and what creature you'd like them to be. Personally, I'd really like to avoid Veela Draco; it's been beaten to death with a crowbar. Repeatedly.

Let's be creative and avoid the stock three I see all the time, which are Veela Draco, Vampire Harry or Snape and Werewolf Draco. All three of those creatures are too common, and I'd like a challenge. Look into the different types of Fair Folk/Elves, Dragons, Jorogumo, Incubus... Etcetera and so forth.

I'm not married to Harry/Draco, though I would like to have one of them in the pairing that is suggested.

I look forward to seeing what you guys come up with!

* * *

_Horror is like a serpent; always shedding its skin, always changing. And it will always come back. It can't be hidden away like the guilty secrets we try to keep in our subconscious. ~Dario Argento_

"No," Harry stated flatly.

"Mr. Potter," Slughorn began again carefully. "Don't you want your condition reversed? I assure you; this potion is-"

"No way," Harry repeated, crossing his arms. "I'm not taking it. Last time I did I ended up as tall as Hagrid."

"Only when you rear up," Hermione pointed out.

"With all due respect, Professor, I'd prefer Malfoy to take a look at that before I drink it at the very least. He says this can't be reversed and I believe him." Harry coiled himself a bit tighter after scooting closer to the fire. The hungrier he got, the colder he got as well. It was a vicious cycle that was beginning to take its toll on him. Since his body had changed so much nobody had noticed yet; but Harry got the feeling he was beginning to lose weight. That was not good.

"Since when have you been so fond of Malfoy?" Ron asked, shoving another toffee into his gob and offering one to Hermione. There was a silent agreement between the three of them that Ron would talk as little as possible while Malfoy was near, at least as long as Harry and Malfoy were getting along. He tended to facilitate this by stuffing his mouth.

She took it and motioned to the notes Malfoy had made for Harry during their study session. "Since he agreed to help find information on Naga to help Harry cope with this. These notes are fantastic, Harry. Where did he find all this?"

"Something in the Manor's library," Harry answered simply. "They just have a lot of old books."

Ron scoffed and offered Hermione more candy, which she refused. "Probably lots of illegal books."

"The Ministry has already been through the Manor with a fine toothed comb, Weasley. If you think we've anything significantly illegal left, then you're doubting your father's skills. He did head the investigation, after all." The blonde walked into the hospital wing and perched in a chair not far from Harry, handing him some parchments.

Ron sneered at him, "At least you're not denying there was anything to collect. Why didn't you bring the book here, then, instead of writing more notes, Malfoy?"

Malfoy smiled benignly. "Because I've seen the way you treat library books and caught you writing in Potter's schoolbooks as well, Weasley. I didn't want it damaged."

"That's actually a good point," Hermione admitted. She took the notes from Harry and looked through them while Ron scowled at her.

"If you don't mind, Mr. Malfoy," Slughorn began. "Mr. Potter is being unreasonable, and he would like you to look at this restoration brew before he takes it."

Malfoy nodded and took the bottle, noting the color and smell. He swished it a bit and smelled it again, then frowned. "I have the utmost respect for your potion making skills, Professor," Malfoy assured him. "It's only that making existing potions and inventing new ones are entirely different things, and I don't have much experience with your work in the latter. May I see the ingredients you used to make this, please?

Clearly annoyed, Slughorn handed over the notes he'd made while brewing and Malfoy looked them over carefully. Near the end he paused and pointed to a scribble that Harry honestly couldn't make out. "Why is Goldenseal in this?"

"Because," Slughorn answered curtly, "it is used to treat snake bites."

Draco nodded. "That is true, Professor, but that's because it is commonly used to treat infections, not because it has any special connotation to snakes or their venom. It won't do any good in this brew-"

"Mr. Malfoy," the Potions Master said tightly. "I was Severus Snape's Potions Master when he was still learning the difference between Kingsfoil and Cat Nip! I may not be the best in the world, but I believe I can brew a reversal to the Avus Revelare without killing the subject!"

Malfoy handed the notes back and put his hands up in respectful surrender. "I understand that, sir. It isn't your skill I doubt exactly. It's only that, much like Potter himself, Naga genes are extremely stubborn and generally refuse to die-"

Harry crossed his arms and glared at the back of Malfoy's head while Ron and Hermione tried not to laugh, but said nothing.

"-and trying to suppress them will only make them fight harder to manifest. Every time Potter has taken these potions, regardless of their intended effect, his Naga traits have only gotten more advanced. I don't think a cure is possible. It would be better for Potter to accept this change and learn to live with it. Continuing to give him ineffective treatments will only hinder any progress he might make in learning to achieve a successful morph into human form by making it more difficult to learn the way his body functions with his core."

While Slughorn flushed angrily and began having a heated conversation with Madame Pomfrey over that logic, Harry looked at the opalescent yellow potion swirling inside the vial Malfoy held. "So if it isn't going to kill me or cure me, what will it do?"

Malfoy pretended to consider that a moment. "It might make you _smarter_," he quipped. "But most anything would."

Hermione put the notes down and took the vial, looking it over. "It should just about complete your transformation into a full Naga."

"Which," Ron said thoughtfully, "will make it easier to change into a human again. Right?"

"Right," Hermione agreed. "Since he'll be a full Naga, all the abilities they have should work just fine."

Harry groaned and took the vial in hand. "You'd better back up. Last time I broke the bed I was on."

Malfoy did so, watching with interest. Slughorn looked very pleased that Harry was going to take it. "It will work. This time I'm certain."

Harry drank the vial.

He closed his eyes and braced himself, waiting for pain, or his skin to shed, or any of the other terrible things that happened before.

Moments later he opened his eyes again and looked in annoyance at the empty vial. "Nothing happened."

"Yes, Potter, it did." Malfoy waved his wand and conjured a full length mirror.

The first thing he noticed was his eyes. They weren't any different in shape or size, but now they were glowing. He had been told that his eyes glowed while he had dueled with Voldemort, but he hadn't been able to imagine it. Now Harry thought he must have looked evil, but perhaps that perception was his own due to the slit pupils he now bore. The presence of his eyes now took up the majority of his face, and he was certain he'd be able to intimidate absolutely anyone he faced with them alone.

The second thing he noticed was that his vision was blurry. Sighing, he took off his glasses. He could see clearly now, so he handed them to Hermione. "I suppose I won't need these anymore."

"They weren't the right prescription anyway. I have no idea why you didn't buy new ones years ago," Hermione said as she put them in her pocket.

"What now?" Malfoy asked tightly.

"I know, the hair is disturbing." Harry grabbed a fistful of it; black and shining and strong; falling in a curtain down his back almost to where his body coiled on the floor. Besides that he had filled out a bit, looking more muscular than he had before. But at least he hadn't shed his skin this time.

"Not that!" Malfoy snapped, and he only looked angrier when Harry turned to him in surprise. "You mean to tell me that all these years you've been beating me in Quidditch and you've been doing so _with glasses that didn't work_!?"

"Oh! Er…" Harry recoiled a bit.

"Well, the horrid people he lived with wouldn't buy him proper ones," Hermione snapped.

Ron chuckled. "'Mione, Malfoy's mad because Harry kept beating him with a handicap."

She flushed. "Oh, right. Sorry, Malfoy. But it's already in his blood, you know. Mr. Potter was good at quidditch too."

"Yes, Granger; it's something to brag about that Potter has a genetic predilection to be easily distracted by shiny objects," Malfoy drawled.

Harry snickered. "If that weren't true, it'd be offensive."

Harry quieted though, when Malfoy shot him a truly angry stare and left the room.

"Looks like he can't take a little criticism of his Seeker's skills, eh, Harry?" Ron said with a smile.

Hermione sighed. "Three... two... one-"

Harry slithered out the door after Malfoy.

"Now that the war's over," Hermione began, "maybe we should find the switch to his Hero Complex so we can shut it OFF."

Ron nodded. "You've got my support, though I'm not quite sure where it might be."

* * *

Damn, Malfoy was fast when he wanted to be.

No matter how quickly Harry tried to follow him, the prat kept getting just a bit ahead. He hadn't actually SEEN the git since he'd left the Hospital Wing, but Harry knew he had to be close since he could still feel the vibrations Malfoy's hurried retreat caused in the floors. That was apparently a perk of being a full Naga - being able to track vibration as well as scent, or taste as it might be called since it involved Harry's tongue to make it work properly.

Harry was just about to give up and let the idiot sulk for a while when he felt the vibrations stop suddenly and heard Malfoy let out a cry of alarm. Harry smelled fear and felt an abrupt increase in the hum of acitvity he'd been tracking, and immediately knew that someone had attacked. Now that Malfoy was stationary, however, it was much simpler to close in on him. He was in the next hall.

The instant he turned the corner Harry bared his fangs, flexed his claws and tensed his tail for a strike.

…only to blink in surprise and fold his arms while he watched Malfoy duel one against two, and expertly at that. Harry put himself in a place far enough to watch safely while Malfoy soundly trounced a Ravenclaw Carrow cousin and another Hufflepuff boy Harry didn't recognize. It wasn't easy casting mostly defense, clearly, but Malfoy was victorious none the less. After knocking them out for the win the blonde, panting, pointed his wand at Harry.

"_What_?" he demanded.

"That was impressive. Are you alright?" Harry asked curiously.

Sneering, the Slytherin pocketed his wand. "Damsel in Distress I am NOT, Potter. Please tell me you didn't rush around that corner expecting to heroically defend my honor."

The proud annoyance in his tone made Harry smile broadly. "Join in, is more like," he laughed. "I can't let you have all the fun. But it seemed like you had it under control and I decided to admire your dueling skills instead."

"Oh, did you?" Malfoy smirked and cocked his head to the side a bit. "And what did you think?"

Harry slid over and examined the unconscious boys, exaggerating his movements to irritate the victor. "Too subtle. Not enough force, and there isn't a mark on either of them. If I didn't know any better I'd think you didn't want to hurt them or something. Are you going soft?"

Malfoy snorted and drew his wand again, brandishing the tip threateningly at the Carrow boy. "I can hurt them _now_, if you like."

Harry frowned at him. "You would, wouldn't you? They're bloody _unconscious_, Malfoy."

"They attacked me. I don't care. Besides, the fact that you can't see any injuries does not indicate an absence of them. Headmaster Snape taught me quite a few useful things that can't be detected, at least in the short term." Malfoy kept his wand out this time, but stopped pointing it at them when Harry hissed warningly. "You are far too kind to the enemy, Potter."

"_You're_ still here, aren't you?" Harry snapped.

Malfoy only chuckled at him. "Touché."

"What did you do to them?"

"Nothing too horrible; it was merely a curse that causes incontinence for a few days. They may get a bit dehydrated, but I'm certain Madame Pomphrey can keep them well until it wears off."

"That's barbaric." Harry mused. "But I can't say that I have a problem with it, considering the circumstances."

Malfoy smiled oddly at him. "I expected you to rage and demand I counter it, like a good Gryffindor."

Harry tsk'ed him. "I assumed since you told me about it that there wasn't a counter curse, or at least you didn't know it."

"That's astoundingly intelligent of you."

"See, that _sounded_ like a compliment, but it wasn't one, was it?" Harry made a face as the taste in the air turned foul and he realized what he smelled. "Come on, we can at least let Pomfrey know she's got patients. Then we'll have to report this to the Headmistress."

Malfoy nodded and walked past the Naga with his sleeve over his nose. Harry thought that a good idea and almost moved to mimic him when another scent interested him. It was tart and crisp like fresh fruit with a sweetness that lingered. His head swiveled in the direction of it and his tongue darted out to taste the air automatically. "What was that?" Harry asked. "It smells good."

"Nothing here smells good, you dolt. Come on, I want to leave before that odor gets any worse." Malfoy continued to push on down the hall and Harry was forced to follow him. He had searched a moment for the scent but couldn't find it where they had been, so he shrugged it off and went about his business. "Do you think I'll get lynched if your devoted fanfare sees me studying with you in the library? I'm tired of being cooped up in my rooms. We can at least go over the classes we share."

"That's only Potions, and it'll just end up with you teaching me everything. I won't be of much help," Harry scoffed. "Besides, don't you have anything better to do than tutor me?'

"No. No, I don't."

Harry frowned and growled a bit. No, Malfoy wouldn't, would he? He was always stuck in the safe rooms like he was under quarantine, and without the cloak he could only venture out of them with a Professor or a body guard; and Harry was the only body guard worth mentioning here that would help the Slytherin get about. "How about Gryffindor Tower? You can study there with me. And if you need to sleep in the common room, I doubt anyone will bother you."

"This is a plot to get rid of me, isn't it?" Malfoy joked. "Feeding me to the lions?"

"They don't eat ferrets."

For a moment Harry was afraid Malfoy would think that too abrasive, but the blonde laughed a bit anyway. "Fine, I'll come to your bloody tower. The worst they'd do is make me leave, I suppose."

* * *

No matter how long he remained there, sitting placidly on the sofa reading his book, Malfoy was constantly being stared at as if he might spontaneously explode. Harry actually found it quite funny, as his housemates were going overboard in their surveillance of a so-called enemy. Eventually he got tired of the staring and yelled at them all to go to bed, which worked except for Ron and Hermione, and Luna who wasn't supposed to be there anyway and would likely end up sleeping in the common room so the other prefects didn't give her detention.

"So, why is this book illegal anyway?" Harry asked.

Malfoy completely ignored Ron's muffled, "I knew it!" from the adjacent room.

"Well, several hundred years ago a bunch of peasants decided they didn't want to be peasants anymore and revolted; and since the Nobility won the fight they stopped being peasants very quickly." Malfoy turned the page and continued to write things down for Harry as he translated from Latin to English. "Just after that the Lords of that particular fiefdom had new books made for their wizard kin."

"So?" Harry asked.

"Books made of Vellum," Malfoy elaborated tersely. At Harry's blank look he finally snapped. "Leather, you idiot. The book is made of human leather."

"Oh! That... that's disgusting." Harry made a face and leaned away from the tome dramatically.

Malfoy slammed it shut and shouted to Hermione. "Granger! My respect for you has increased in direct proportion to Potter's idiocy!"

Harry was just about to snap at him for that when a hesitant yet pleased drawl of, 'thank you,' came from the other room. Harry crossed his arms and glowered. "Eventually you'll run out of new ways to call me stupid, Malfoy."

The blonde smirked. "I sincerely doubt that."


	8. Growing Pains

Hey everyone! I'm loving all the suggestions! Thanks so much for sending them in! One comment in particular I have to reply to with a quote from my current favorite cartoon.

Suave Asphyxiation (on the merging of several creatures thing): "Would you look at that, it's a, uni-whale-scorpio-pega-squid-acorn-girl... what are the odds? Actually, it's a bit more ridiculous than scary." ~Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz; Phineas and Ferb

Seraphwalker: That is an excellent idea! I'll give it thought for another story.

FalconLux: I'm glad you like it. Admittedly the quality between chapters is a little off, but life is too hectic to maintain a steady creativity flow when most of my free time is taken up by laundry and diapers. I hope you continue to enjoy the story, and I welcome any suggestions.

Currently the ideas I like best are: Gargoyle (thank you Veronica!), Incubus & Fairy. I did a little research and I think we can have an excellent mix of the last two if I use the Gancanagh. Seriously: look that bastard up. That'd be one hell of a creature inheritance. Depending on who got it, though, the effect would go in completely different directions.

I am very partial to Harry/Draco, but I also like Harry/Snape; although finding a reasonable way to keep him alive is one hell of a toughie. As I said with the relationship jumping - 'because magic says so' isn't good enough.

And obviously I have more time to write some days than others. I already said posts would be sporadic, didn't I? That means anywhere from daily to monthly... thank you for your patience. ^_^

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_The serpent, the king, the tiger, the stinging wasp, the small child, the dog owned by other people, and the fool: these seven ought not to be awakened from sleep. ~Chanakya_

Harry was exhausted.

The simple spells and enchantments he would cast on a daily basis simply to function in school were getting more difficult by the day. The red meat was helping, to be sure. Malfoy had been right about eating fur and bone. He was getting quite fond of bones in particular and could always tell when his body was digesting it. For a few blissful moments he felt full as one would after drinking a good, thick broth or soup that had been boiled with a choice bone in it until the marrow fell out. This sensation was always temporary though, and he went back to being agonizingly hungry afterward.

Constant hunger and cold was making him irritable. More than once his friends had been forced to stop their conversation and tell him to settle down. Neville had roughly reminded Harry that even though he didn't try to be frightening he certainly looked it, and scaring people by losing his temper in this new intimidating form wasn't fair even if he didn't intend it. For the past few days Harry hadn't actually spoken to anyone but Malfoy, who had teased him about forgetting those impressive manners he'd learned recently but took it with a grain of salt.

"It's a big change," Malfoy had said sensibly. "You're still adjusting. All those bloody Gryffindors are being unreasonable wanting to you act like nothing's happened."

Harry couldn't remember being grateful for that at the time, but he was now. He'd just had a row with Ron and Hermione over his silence. Trying to explain that he wasn't giving them all the silent treatment and was just too on edge to have a conversation without unintentionally being a prat fell on deaf ears. They ended up saying that if he didn't want to talk to them then they wouldn't talk to him either. This was fine with Harry because they were making conversation awkward anyway since they had gotten seriously into the heavy petting part of their relationship that would inevitably lead to engagement. He had been looking for an excuse to stop being the third wheel and give them time to themselves. Despite not knowing how to explain that without sounding weird, the effect was none the less achieved by this little hiatus in their friendship. Harry knew they'd all get over it and make up sooner or later.

But now he was lonely. Worse; he was bored: and he couldn't even go flying to alleviate it.

He couldn't visit Luna in Ravenclaw Tower because he could never get the bloody riddles or puzzles right, and it was frustrating that watching other people try to get in seemed to be a legitimate sport to them. It wasn't unusual for several Ravenclaws to stand by and watch for up to half an hour while someone that wasn't in their house repeatedly tried to satisfy that damned door knocker, snickering like first years. It wasn't malicious to be sure, but in Harry's current condition it was completely unbearable, and they were obnoxiously smug about it if you had to ask them to answer for you.

Harry was not ever going to try to get into the Hufflepuff common room again. He had followed Malfoy's advice and tapped on the barrels in various patterns until he had settled on using the founder's name for the pattern. That he had gotten right. Unfortunately he had tapped the right pass code on the wrong barrel, and it had doused him with warm apple vinegar in retaliation. With his elevated Naga senses the taste and smell of it had made him sick for hours. It had been so bad that he now knew Naga could vomit and it had taken an entire afternoon of soaking in the Prefect's bathroom to rid himself of the stench.

Predictably, Malfoy had laughed his arse off when Harry told him about it. He strongly suspected that the Slytherin had known and simply neglected to tell him about the consequences in the hopes Harry would find out in exactly that way. Retaliation was a must, though Harry would wait a while until Malfoy wouldn't be expecting it. Harry was surprisingly revenge-minded for a Gryffindor. He'd have to contact George for ideas.

In the meantime, he only had one option left for companionship; Malfoy.

…who had somehow filched Harry's glasses from Hermione whilst he was in the tower.

"You sneaky bastard! Give those back!" Harry reached for them the moment he came into the Slytherin's private room and saw him fiddling with them, but was repelled by a shielding charm. He growled and rubbed his sore hand.

"No," he drawled. "I'm not finished yet. You don't even need them at the moment anyway. Stop being dramatic."

"You realize you're not allowed in the tower again if you're just going to steal things," Harry sulked, curling up by the fire. "Hermione is going to be frantic when she realizes you took my glasses from her."

"She'll live, now do something useful and make us some tea." Malfoy had his wand poised millimeters from the surface of the lenses and seemed to be reciting spells quietly. He would intermittently look back to the book he had open beside him and go back to whispering.

Harry defiantly remained where he was and lay out on the carpet to absorb the heat from the fire more evenly. "No, I'm cold and your kitchen is too far. At least tell me what you're doing to them. Do I have to buy new ones now?"

"Good thing if you did. You look like a dimwitted owl in these round monstrosities. Granger is right; you should have replaced them if they didn't even help you."

"I like them," Harry snapped. "Now what are you doing, Malfoy?"

"Reinforcing the frames and charming the lenses to adjust to your vision like proper Wizard's spectacles. I didn't know Muggles actually had to replace theirs when their vision changed; I had to ask Granger. What kind of a Seeker wears Muggle glasses? One rogue bludger to the head could have imbedded these ineffective lenses in your ineffective brain, Potter." Though Malfoy sounded scathing his expression was calm while he worked.

"And now you're calling me stupid again," Harry sighed.

Malfoy chuckled. "That was the second time. Pay attention."

Harry sat up to see better. "So you're fixing them for me?"

"Do I really have to simplify my statement that much for you to understand it? Yes, Potter. I'm fixing them."

Harry smiled. "Well, now you're just_ doomed_ next time we play."

Malfoy smirked at him and teased, "I don't _have_ to give these back, you know."

"No, no." Harry hurriedly put his hands up. "I want them back. I'll shut up, now."

"And go make tea," Malfoy finished for him.

Harry pried himself away from the fire and went to do so, grumbling the whole way. His large mug was still there since he was over so often, and Malfoy at least allowed Harry to touch his delicate teacup to pour for him. Annoyed, Harry looked over while the water heated and smirked as he watched Malfoy try to work around the bulky robes he was still wearing to work with the delicate glasses.

In the short time he'd been on relatively friendly terms with the blonde it surprised Harry how much he'd learned. Just little things; like how Malfoy was easily chilled due to his willowy frame and wore his robes or a house coat even when anyone else would just be in their pajamas, or that he primarily drank herbal tea rather than black, and even that he was a light sleeper and would jolt awake if he'd been napping when Harry entered his rooms no matter how quietly he came in. Malfoy's hair was usually a mess when he wasn't expecting anyone (though he always fixed it quickly if someone dropped by). His favorite color seemed to be azure blue given the abundance of things he owned in that color. He was fond of decorative boxes and chests; they were just _everywhere_ and some of them didn't even have anything in them to justify being there. Even his bloody teacups had a designated box. Honestly, it looked as if he was surrounding himself with a hoard of treasures.

Going through them during the few times Malfoy had been asleep while Harry was there had even allowed him to discover the other young man's talent for divination; he had several crystal balls in various sizes and clarity and stones, two decks of cards wrapped in silk and fur respectively, bloodstone runes and bones, a holed citrine hanging on a silver cord on his headboard, and a black scrying mirror. Even the cups and loose tea he used were significant. Given the typical Malfoy image the family put forth, Harry wondered if Lucius and Narcissa had any idea their son was a Diviner. Upon reflection Harry realized Malfoy must like it a lot, since that was probably the only class they'd shared in which the Slytherin generally left him alone. Malfoy had been too busy paying attention or reading or staring into crystals to give Harry a hard time. It also explained Malfoy's dislike of Tralawney, since her sporadic prophecies were absolutely the only useful thing she'd provided in terms of actual Divination.

Habits, preferences, mannerisms… these were things he had only known about the Dursleys or his roommates or the Weasleys when he stayed at the Burrow. This kind of familiarity required time and patience as well as experience, and Harry had never quite achieved this level of it so quickly. Nothing quite illustrated it better than knowing exactly how to make the blonde's tea: Mint, steeped four minutes, two teaspoons of sage honey and a drop of vanilla. After the third time he'd made it; it wasn't even complicated anymore.

Harry almost had to shake his head to rid himself of the odd feeling that Malfoy was too prominent a part of his life now. He began to think he was trying to find a new best friend, since his other two were far too involved with each other to pay him much mind anymore. That was the way it should be though, and perhaps it was time he started making new friends.

"I can't give this to you with the shield up," Harry complained when he was finished.

"Just set it on the table," Malfoy said dismissively. "They're almost done."

True enough it was only thirty seconds or so before Malfoy took the shield down and held out Harry's glasses to him as he took his seat on the sofa. Harry took them, looking them over. The only visible difference was the color. Malfoy had changed it to a very dark forest green, which Harry supposed would look good with his eye color if he had a human skin tone again. The black frames did tend to hide his eyes behind them and the new color was similar without being overwhelming. "If you were going to change the color, why didn't you change the shape too?"

Malfoy sipped his tea, once again failing to thank Harry for making it. "I've seen your father's picture in the Quidditch display case. His glasses were round, so I thought you'd like to keep that shape."

"Good call. So they won't break anymore?"

"Not easily, no. The frames and lenses are now bound together so they won't come out, and they'll adjust to the curve your eyes need individually. You shouldn't need to get new ones until they break completely." Malfoy waited patiently while Harry looked them over.

"So why did you do all this? I'm not complaining: thanks for it, really. But I don't need them anymore." Harry put them on and grinned when they adjusted to be completely flat, since his eyesight was perfect as a Naga now.

"Chances are you'll need them once you manage to change into a human form, Potter. If not, you should wear them anyway because they're almost as much of a part of your persona as that scar. You'd look annoyingly different without them."

Harry paused in picking up his tea and looked sideways at Malfoy. "So you _like_ my glasses?" he teased.

The Slytherin immediately went blank. "I did not say that."

"What did you say, then?"

"I said that they're like your scar," he began snidely. "Ugly, but expected."

Despite the tone, Harry now knew when Malfoy was playing and not trying to insult, so the comment only made him laugh. "Alright, did you find anything else in those wonderful people books of yours?"

The blonde rolled his eyes. "You're so bloody childish. Why must you call them 'people books'?"

"Because I'm childish," Harry agreed smoothly. "So?"

"I found instructions on the transformation. Along with an excruciatingly detailed list of the author's conquests in the Muggle village she visited after she managed the change. Apparently she fancied Blacksmiths, for some reason." Malfoy picked up the largest of the books he'd had brought from home and flipped through it.

"Must be the strength training," Harry reasoned thoughtfully. "Some people like being held down." Malfoy startled and gave him a glare. "Sorry, but it's true."

Once he got to the right page, Malfoy handed Harry the notes he'd carefully folded in the right part of the book. "Here, Potter. Let's see you try it."

Harry squinted at the page and frowned. "This looks like a dance."

"It's a Kata, you barbarian," Malfoy snapped angrily.

"And what is a 'kata' exactly?" Harry challenged.

Using his teacher voice again, Malfoy sighed and began, "It's a detailed, choreographed series of movements that help direct-"

"_It's a bloody dance, Malfoy! _Except I don't have legs, so it's a really complicated, vertical slither."

They stared at each other in mutual disdain while Harry began to calm down from his rant. Finally, Malfoy sighed. "You're not going to try it until I bribe you," he stated bluntly.

"Not even then," Harry declared, crossing his arms.

"What if I told you what you smelled the other night after my duel?" Malfoy offered. "You seemed very curious about it."

Harry twitched. "Damn you. How is that fair? And how do you even know what it was?"

"Because," Malfoy began, "It's something I haven't told you yet in the Naga details. Do you want to know?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure it's worth humiliating myself with that 'kata' thing." Harry eyed the blonde suspiciously while he stood up and crossed his arms, facing Harry as well as he could being three heads shorter.

"It was me," Malfoy stated simply.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I was stressed before I was rudely summoned to the Hospital Wing to look at your potion, and I had myself a wank to get rid of some of my tension," Malfoy admitted with no small amount of difficulty. "You were smelling the aftermath."

Harry raised a brow and waited to see if Malfoy would continue, but when he didn't the Naga decided he was telling the truth. "Alright, fine. That's worth an attempt. So... I can smell sex?"

Malfoy nodded. "Close. What you were actually sensing was the magic generated by that specific act."

"That's pretty wicked." Harry snickered and took the papers, looking them over. "Fine, I'll do the dance. That's one hell of a teasing weapon you just handed me, Malfoy."

"I trust you'll keep it private."

'or else' was the implied end of that statement, and Harry nodded to acknowledge it.


	9. Skill and Power

The most votes I have gotten by far are an Incubus and various types of Fey. The verdict is in and I've decided positively on the Gancanagh, which is essentially both. Now I need to think about the story premise, because a creature fic doesn't necessarily have to be about the creature part exclusively.

Last week I designed a personal layout of Malfoy Manor based on Hardwick Hall (the model used in the movies). I think Harry should spend a lot of time there in the next story. I may post the layout on my Deviantart account later on.

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_"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty," ~Robert Green Ingersoll_

When Harry was a little boy, his aunt used to tell him fairy tales with her own twist to them to illustrate how bad magic was in the Dursley house and to try to scare him away from it. He hadn't thought about it in a while, but after his first attempt at obtaining a human form he lay in the hospital wing annoyingly reminded of The Little Mermaid. He had seen that frustratingly saccharine animated film once when he hid behind the sofa while Dudley had a girl over and convinced himself his aunt had changed the story's end to torment him, but it had surprisingly been one of those scary Victorian tales she hadn't had to alter.

They seemed to enjoy blackmailing children into behaving with promises of fear, pain, and eternal damnation in that era. It made him glad he'd been born when he was. Not that his upbringing had been much different, mind. Harry still couldn't get over wanting to sleep in a small space. If he wasn't in a four-poster with the curtains drawn then he had the blanket completely over his head. The Dursley's had trained him well. Open spaces made him feel vulnerable and even in this form he was sleeping in what his housemates were calling a 'pillow fort'.

Thanks to Hermione he had read all of those fairy tales over again before third year and had deduced two things; first, they were primarily bogeyman stories to scare children into behaving themselves in absolutely horrible ways and second, they should not have been considered children's stories in the first place. Sleeping Beauty was rife with a horrible feeling Harry clearly recalled as his little mind realized the Prince had his wicked way with her and she had actually had children _while she was asleep_. The Little Matchstick Girl had been the most depressing story he'd ever read and yet somehow it was supposed to be a happy ending. No way would he ever think of it like that; dead was dead and that was not a happy bloody story, especially when the main character couldn't have been more than seven. Princes were all entitled berks, Princesses wanted to kill anyone that tried to marry them (not that he could blame them with the available suitors), and every stepmother, king, goblin, witch, wizard, or elf was somehow evil and often trying to steal babies or murder children. Sometimes even their own.

He'd long since decided to tell his own kids the stupidly saccharine new versions until they were at least in their double digits, even if he had to rewrite the Wizarding ones himself. Though Harry had to admit he was still very fond of The White Snake. That one was okay.

And on The Little Mermaid; Harry now knew what it felt like to have his tail split and suffer excruciating pain while attempting to walk. Thanks to Malfoy's preparations he hadn't bled to death while reversing it, which was thankfully quite easy. The worst he had to deal with now was feeling weak due to blood loss and a persistent ringing in his ears after Pomfrey had screeched at Harry and Malfoy for over an hour about not attempting the change in the Hospital wing in the first place. He had to admit she had a point, but did she have to give him a headache about it?

Predictably; the instant Harry was injured Ron and Hermione showed up and they were suddenly friends again. This bewildered Malfoy enough that he was silent for most of the make-up chatter and Ron's customary exchange of sweets to wish him well.

His shock eventually wore off, though, and he spoke up at last. "I'm surprised you two aren't hexing me for endangering your precious savior," he drawled.

Ron actually snickered at him. "Still here, isn't he? I'm surprised you bothered to stem the bleeding, Malfoy. I wasn't actually convinced you didn't have some elaborate plot to kill Harry until now. And Hermione already told me she looked over the transformation notes and thought Harry ought to try it."

The bushy-haired girl in question had her hand over her mouth, politely trying to finish swallowing her pastry before speaking. She managed while Weasley finished his speech and said, "It wasn't any worse than splinching himself, and there was obviously medical attention ready beforehand. Besides, he told us about what happened in Myrtle's bathroom. I think he owed you one."

Malfoy's mouth hung open a moment before he started laughing. "You honestly think this qualifies? No, Granger. I'm going to make him pay for that one later."

"Don't be an arse, Malfoy." Harry crossed his arms while he flexed his tail experimentally. "I'll be glad to do whatever nasty task you have in mind in reparations for it. I'll never cast a spell again if I'm not sure precisely what it does, alright?"

"No. Not 'alright', Potter. I'm tempted to have you exterminate every Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest in penance." Malfoy snapped at him.

Ron beamed. "Really? That might work! You're a Naga, Harry. We know they hate snakes. One look at you coming and they might just run off!"

Hermione glared. "To where, Ron? If they leave the forest they might infest a populated area. Possibly a Muggle area."

"And then the Ministry would be forced to exterminate them," the redhead pointed out.

"How many people would they eat before that, Weasley?" Malfoy asked gravely. "Think before you speak."

Hermione turned to look at the blonde curiously. "Did you just defend Muggles?"

"Barely," he snorted, turning away with a slight flush.

By this point in the conversation Harry was able to stop and watch his friends interact with each other. For families that had been feuding for as long as anyone could remember, Ron and Malfoy were being surprisingly civil with one another for Harry's sake. Hermione and Malfoy were watching their tongues and not bringing up anything that might remind them of blood politics.

Harry was well aware that the primary prejudices in the Wizarding World were species and blood purity. Everything else fell by the wayside. In the last week or so he had noticed a few of the purist students cavorting with one another, and in lieu of being alone when someone of the opposite gender was unavailable, they would pair off with one of the same rather than accepting anyone less than half-blood.

It had never occurred to him before (mainly because he hadn't encountered the issue yet) that though same-gender couples were less common they were generally accepted in the wizarding world, and the reason was this; one had to pass on their blood since magic was mainly a genetic trait. One could marry one of their own gender and be as happy as they pleased, so long as they somehow reproduced. A Mistress, Consort, or willing surrogate always followed those couples, or in rarer cases they adopted several orphans with the gift of magic to compensate for having none of their own. This same rule seemed to apply to male/female couples with reproductive issues. No matter whom the fertile one was, or even if neither was, you had to obtain a child. As long as a couple had children and reared a witch or wizard for the family line the makeup of a family unit was mostly a moot point.

If Harry thought about Malfoy's situation like that with his obligation to produce children greatly enhanced given his genetics, the danger seemed far worse than he had previously believed. He wondered if it was only a waiting game to see who would go the furthest to get Malfoy's blood in their family. He already knew how badly the Slytherin was wanted - Harry had overheard Narcissa and the Headmistress discussing a petition at the Ministry they had been able to suppress at the last minute to arrange his marriage to multiple wives.

Which explained the sudden increase in male challengers. They must be trying every avenue to get Malfoy in the family that could be taken, and given his consistent refusal of every girl it made sense to see if his preferences lie somewhere else. Not that it helped them: Malfoy was as stubborn as ever. He simply had a larger number of defeated challengers when they stopped him to flirt.

This was getting dangerous.

The more Harry watched his new friend interact with his old ones the more he wanted to do anything he could about this whole mess. Perhaps it was time to start stalking the blonde again, Harry mused, despite knowing he wasn't up to anything.

Once Hermione and Ron had left, Harry and Malfoy stayed alone for a while in a comfortable silence. The tight feeling that had been in the room died away, and Harry could tell the conversation had been difficult for them.

"So, you won't try to be friends with them?" Harry asked.

"Merlin, no. Not everyone is as forgiving as you are; and I mean almost nobody is," Malfoy snorted. "Granger and Weasley and I can tolerate each other and be civil if we must, but we won't ever be friends. Not even for you, Potter."

Harry thought about that. "I guess that'll work."

* * *

"For the love of Magic, if you're going to follow me could you at least do it _quietly_?"

Sheepishly, Harry slunk out of the adjacent corridor he'd been using to follow Malfoy. "How did you even hear me?"

"I didn't. I guessed," Malfoy smirked at him. "I haven't been attacked all day and I figured someone was chasing off my overzealous suitors."

Harry smiled and shrugged at him. "Are you complaining?"

Malfoy snorted in answer. "Just don't make a habit of it. I am capable of defending myself."

"Well, I can sense some more of your 'overzealous suitors' ahead in the hall. Do you want me to chase them off?" Harry asked.

"No," he grinned. "You may want to hang back. I'm about to give you a dueling lesson, Potter."

As they approached the area Malfoy already had his wand drawn. Harry stayed out of the way and out of sight as he had been asked. His jaw clenched as he saw the blonde calmly approach the line of three blocking off the hall to bar Malfoy's way. Harry couldn't tell who they were.

Because they were wearing identical black, hooded robes.

Harry supposed he shouldn't be surprised purists would do something that nasty. They weren't Death Eater robes precisely, but they were close. The only vital piece missing were the masks. Even that, Harry knew, was to keep out of Azkaban if they were caught.

Everything began in a flurry of movement. The three took their places with a quick bow in Malfoy's direction to indicate their intent. The first approached and took their place across from Malfoy, and the duels began one by one. Harry had seen better dueling to be sure, but that had been quick battles by wizards far older and more experienced than either Malfoy or himself. It was showy and loud and above all else frantic and violent.

This, though, was marathon dueling on an artistic level. Malfoy had accepted the challenge knowing Harry was nearby to second him should he fall, though the challengers were thus far unaware of it, and was fighting as if he were putting on a show. No amount of fury hurled his way seemed to faze him in the slightest and he continued to flick his wand almost carelessly, subtly bringing his attackers to their defeat like one leads a beast to water to let them drink. The rest was left up to them, and fall they did once his little traps were sprung; letting them cast hexes that would either rebound or fail against his defenses, leaving them exhausted and unable to continue.

His first challenger lost after twelve well-planned exchanges that had been timed well enough to prove he knew who it was and had fought them before. Malfoy employed simple tactics and was mostly on defense until a careless opening allowed a swift disarming to get through. That challenger bowed tightly and went to retrieve his wand, which had been flung across the corridor and out of sight.

The second proved the same concept of fighting a known foe. Her voice was oddly familiar to Harry though he couldn't place her identity. She cast with wide and terrible swings of her wand so severe it looked to Harry like she was wielding a whip and was using the visualization of that very act to lash out at him with as much force as she could. It took a long time for Malfoy to defeat her. She was skilled and powerful and obviously angry, a dangerous combination, as well as clever enough to evade most of Malfoy's traps and manipulations. She did nothing as expected, using silly first-year jinxes one moment then switching to heavy and damaging spells that had not been taught in school at all. By the time Malfoy finally managed to rebound her last curse, which had hit her quite hard and left a small pool of blood where she had been, the blonde was visibly tired and sore.

Malfoy's eyes were bleak yet determined as the third strode forth. Theodore Nott threw back his hood and cast Malfoy a confident and sinister grin. He didn't bother to hold his wand high. His was the skill of subtlety and manipulation in the game of magic and duels, and Malfoy mimicked him. It was clear to Harry this duel would be both magnificent and frightening to behold, and he waited with a held breath for them to begin.

There was no signal, or cue, or even a visible sign that they had begun. Both wands pointed down and only slightly forward. No words were spoken. Not for a moment did their cerebral lock break.

Suddenly, with no indication of a casting Harry could discern, Malfoy began to sink into the stone of the corridor floor as if it were quicksand. The Slytherin did not panic. A few quick swipes of his wand and he cast levitation on himself until he rose out of it. Far enough to have time before hitting the floor, he dissipated the levitation and cast on the way down to restore the floor. Nott cast again, something Harry didn't recognize and which Malfoy dodged anyway. Once standing firmly on solid stone his eyes returned to Nott's. The entire exchange happened in the blink of an eye and Harry smiled as they regained their temporary stalemate like poker players waiting for a tell.

They were impressive.

It continued for nearly half an hour. That if nothing else proved they were of equal skill. Most duels ended in, at most, five minutes or so. If one was stronger or more clever it ended at the first opening. Malfoy and Nott were evenly matched, equally powerful and just as clever as their counterpart.

But Malfoy proved to be a bit more ruthless.

At some time in the exchanges, he had flung a candelabra off the wall and at Nott's forehead. The resulting head wound was superficial, but bled out into his eyes for the last minute or so. Being unable to see clearly proved Nott's undoing and he finally fell to a body-bind.

Clearly exhausted but pleased, Malfoy turned to smile at Harry.

At that moment the blonde's eyes went dark and closed as he was hit by a stunner. Behind him as he fell, Harry saw four hooded figures come out to gather him, and suddenly understood what was going on.

This latest attack hadn't ended with Malfoy winning and leaving like the last few had. They hadn't been punishing him for being uncooperative or trying to scare him into compliance. Once the three sacrificial duelists had been subdued and Malfoy was tired another group of purists had come out to take him away somewhere.

This was no longer about being persistent and childish about maintaining pure-blood ideals. It was about potential kidnapping and essential slavery. Malfoy was unlikely to cooperate and the only way Harry could think they would get what they wanted was to use Imperius, or potions and keep him like an animal rented out to stud.

To Harry, that was unacceptable on a level he wouldn't tolerate.

Quick as lightning he surged forward out of his hiding spot. His eyes flared and he gnashed his fanged mouth, curling his claws forward to attack.

**_"Leave him alone!"_**


	10. INTERMISSION

**INTERMISSION**

**CASE: MALE VEELA**

EDIT: ADDED ADDITIONAL NOTES

Apologies for the late chapter. I have been busy this week. Perhaps this short ramble will help with the wait.

Please stay with me on this one.

Thanks to reviewers suggesting Japanese creatures as a subject for my next creature fic, I began looking into the mythology of that area. I read through descriptions of the various myths and legends, keeping my mind open for anything that struck my fancy, wrote down a few things and moved on.

After that, as I had been reading another depressing Veela fic (Draco, of course), I looked into the lore to see if I could find any evidence that male Veela even exist. From what I remember in the books there was no mention of them anywhere. It turns out I was wrong: there is one small mention.

According to Harry Potter Wiki: "One of the questions on the 2nd Level W.O.M.B.A.T. asks the examinee to identify which of five given statements is false; one of these claims that full-blooded male Veela do not exist."

Though that question is never answered in the books, it does bring up an interesting question. If there are only female Veela, then how do they breed? I knew they had been based on Sirens from Greek Mythology. What I didn't make as a connection until looking through the Wiki entry on Veela was that they closely resembled Harpies as well. The entry is as follows: "When Veela are angry … they transform into something more like Harpies — their faces turn into cruel-beaked bird heads while long scaly wings burst from their shoulders, and they can launch balls of fire from their hands." Therefore it can be easily assumed that Muggles created Harpies for their Mythology because Veela existed in the area. And though it is also never stated in the books, Harpies are a female-exclusive race. There are no males whatsoever.

Therefore I can only conclude that male Veela simply do not exist in the wizarding world as we know it, at least as full-blooded Veela. Fleur and Bill have a son, but he is far from full-blooded. Therefore almost every fanfic making male characters Veela must occur in an alternate universe at the very least to make them possible.

But wait: there's more.

This bothered me until I looked more into Harpies and found something odd. The Wikipedia page for Harpy has a link directly to Tengu at the bottom of the page. Curious and generally trusting of the information trail, I clicked.

What I found was this: "Although they take their name from a dog-like Chinese demon (Tiangou), the tengu were originally thought to take the forms of birds of prey, and they are traditionally depicted with both human and avian characteristics. The earliest tengu were pictured with beaks-"

As I was Wiki-walking, something began to click into place in my head.

Both of these creatures are single-gender breeds. Veela/Harpies are exclusively female and Tengu are exclusively male. It seems to me as if it would make reproduction impossible, especially since there is no mention of either reproducing in the way a phoenix would. But luckily I paid attention in school. By the same weird memory pattern that led me to Atavisms, I remembered Sexual Dimorphism.

"Sexual dimorphism is a phenotypic difference between males and females of the same species. Examples of such differences include differences in morphology, size, ornamentation and behavior." In some cases, this difference may be so extreme that the two genders of a single species are thought, for a time, to be completely different species existing independently of one another; such as what briefly was the case with the Anglerfish.

As I kept reading things only got better.

My Wiki-walk led me to this: "In species that do not form pair bonds, male and female territories are often independent."

Avian species in particular also have a habit of the males and females having completely different territories and only coming together during a specific season to mate; this would explain how these two creatures could prefer live in vastly different areas of the world and yet be the _same species_.

ADDITIONAL NOTES

More oddly specific similarities between Veela and Tengu:

1. Both are beings of a single gender with the ability to easily assume an alternate form. Veela are primarily human with a bird-like transformation, whereas Tengu are a primarily bird-like being with a human transformation. In popular culture, both Veela and Tengu have a middle-ground in these changes, as humans with wings.

2. Both have very strong transformative abilities. Slavic Veela change into swans, snakes or wolves. Tengu tend to take the shape of humans, generally priests/priestesses or monks/nuns. Tengu, however, are known to change humans into animals, so it is unknown if they can take on those shapes themselves.

3. Both have their own magic that does not require a wand.

4. Both have the ability to summon balls of fire. Element and shape are_ identical_.

5. Both produce a possible wand core. Veela Hair is 'temperamental', though still used. Tengu feathers, which are known to be used to create powerful magic fans, could likely be used as a wand core as well.

6. Both can control the weather. Slavic Veela can summon storms, Tengu can summon wind.

7. Both are irascible and known as formidable warriors.

8. Both are known to be fiercely defensive of their territories.

9. Both myths are sometimes thought to be the ghosts of humans. Slavic Veela are believed to be the ghosts of women who have drowned, especially those who betrayed their lovers. Tengu are thought to be the ghosts of the overly arrogant or prideful. Knowledgeable men become greater Tengu while the ignorant become lesser Tengu.

10. Both have a distinctive form of control over humans of the opposite gender: Veela can hypnotize men, Tengu primarily possess women.

11. BOTH SEDUCE HUMAN MEN. Admittedly, Tengu possess human women to do so, but _still_.

Mostly inconsequential differences:

1. Veela are typically fair-colored, likely white (though their human forms will rarely have dark hair). Tengu are usually based on Kites or Crows, and are therefore black, brownish-black or very dark grey. Anyone familiar with birds will know the males and females normally look different, so that doesn't prove anything. Seriously, search what a male and female Mallard Duck look like. Almost look like two different birds, don't they? The difference between these two beings is small compared to that.

2. Veela and Tengu prefer vastly different areas for their territories. Veela are partial to water-rich environments, whereas Tengu favor dense forests and high mountains. This predilection for living very far apart is literally the only big, definite difference between them, and real bird species exist this way. And considering the migratory patterns real birds have worldwide, it is very likely that meeting once a year to mate isn't difficult at all.

Notes: If anyone feels the need to use this theory in a story, PLEASE DO. The fact that I pieced the facts together doesn't mean they weren't there. Just credit me with the idea, okay?

The long-nosed Tengu image was created AFTER the bird-like Tengu legends, as a way to humanize them and symbolize virility, which only adds, "Both are highly desired by humans" to the list. This obviously symbolic nose, by the way, is said to be 'seven hand-spans in length'. Hopefully, that is an exaggeration.

* * *

I actually googled this question, thinking someone _must _have figured it out before me, since it was so glaringly obvious as I looked through these facts. What I found was HUMON COMICS.

If you go to her comic Manala Next Door and find Happy Marriage, you'll see what I mean.

As she so cleverly points out, "None of the old stories explains where tengus come from, they are always male and there are no stories of them having intercourse with human women, so it has been speculated that the tengu women look so different that they are considered a different race, or possibly that they live far away from the men. I joined the two theories with the harpies. They are only female but are said to get pregnant "from the wind", and tengus are said to be the masters of wind."

Despite the fact that she was not referencing Harry Potter, the woman had a brilliant point. Not only am I now addicted to this website, I am also reminded that Wizarding tests are often full of trick questions.

The W.O.M.B.A.T. question from the books was trying to tell us something.

The answer is that male Veela DO exist: they're called Tengu.

You're welcome. ^_^

**MYSTERY SOLVED**


	11. The Chamber of Secrets

Fanfiction writers of the world – please stop trying to turn your boys into girls. And by girls I mean immature, adolescent girls. Even Ginny metaphorically found a pair in book seven: it would be insulting to write _her_ like that too.

Ooh... speaking of which. I think we left Ginny back in chapter 2. Whoops.

LeaniaSTL: Atavism is a fun thing, isn't it? ^_^

Sailor Sol: I really, really like the dragon idea. I'm looking into it. There's just so... many... kinds. T.T;;

Borderlinecrazy: shout out to you - reference to banshees.

* * *

_ "The serpent may, without being poisonous, raise high its hood, but the show of terror is enough to frighten people - whether he be venomous or not." ~Chanakya_

**_"Leave him alone!"_**

Harry was distantly aware of a frightening sound as he lurched forward at Malfoy's attackers quickly as flying.

He had heard, once, a simulation of a Banshee shriek in Care of Magical Creatures. That shriek was not even a real one and had sent shivers up his spine and given him nightmares for days about his mother's last scream. The one he heard now was deeper, hissing, and reminded him uncomfortably of Voldemort when he was yelling for Nagini. It was the kind of inhuman, furious noise that could reach down into a coward's soul and pull him to his feet by his testicles so he could run. This is exactly what the four cloaked figures attempted to do.

Harry felt oddly proud that yelling in Parseltongue sounded so incredibly menacing.

Before they could get more than three feet from their original positions Harry had whipped around and wound his body in a circle about them, penning them in. He reared up and shouted again, rather enjoying the screams of terror he earned from them.

**_"Want Pure-Blood in your family? Is that what you're after?"_** he screeched. **_"Marry Muggles if you want Pure-Blood! That's the purest you'll get!"_**

One of then tried to scrabble over his tail to escape, but he simply lifted it and angled so that they would fall right back in. Two had collapsed with their hands over their ears to keep out his furious raving. The one he had knocked back with his tail had simply given up and seemed to be playing dead. The last held his wand up in a defensive move, but was staring at him with wide eyes and no sound issued from his mouth, despite his lips moving to form words.

**_"I am fed up with this purist idiocy! If you really want to be special and deserving you have to bloody work for it, not spout how you were born with the right as if you actually had blue blood!"_** He gnashed his mouth and spit at the wall over their heads, careful not to actually hit them with his venom. They all screamed and tried to scramble away again, but he smacked his tail down hard enough for the stone shattering beneath it to serve as a warning. Bits of sharp stone flew in all directions, catching one of the attackers on the finger. Harry could taste his blood in the air and his tongue flicked out to savor it.

Malfoy had recovered from his stunner now and lie just outside the circle, watching with a shocked look Harry would never forget. **_"But you don't, do you?" _**he continued ruthlessly. **_"Your blood is _****_red_****_. Just like your lights, and mine. Tell me, then; if being Pure-Blood makes someone so bloody worthy, why are you hurting the only person that actually has it instead of bowing at his feet?" _**

Harry, still furious and unwilling to let them leave before getting Malfoy some repayment for the nasty trick they had pulled, scooped them up with his tail around their waists and deposited them in a heap before him. **_"APOLOGIZE!"_**

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy raised his wand and pointed it at Harry while two of the hooded figures stepped in front of him to shield him from Harry. One of them tried to sneak by and escape, but Harry whipped to the side and swung his claws in the air in front of them to startle them back into the group.

"Potter!" Malfoy called shrilly. HIs lip was trembling. "Potter, calm down!"

**_"Not until they apologize! You _****_know_****_ what they were going to do to you!"_**

Malfoy flinched back violently but didn't lower his wand. "Potter, please! That's enough! We get it - you're mad! Now, STOP!"

**_"Why are you defending them?" _**he demanded, though he had lowered his tail and crossed his arms over his chest. **_"And get away from them; they'll get you dirty-"_**

But when Harry reached out to take Malfoy's shoulder to pull him away from them, the git panicked. He fired a stunner, that hit Harry square in the chest and made him dizzy. **_"Hey! What are you-?"_**

The other three fired stunners as well, and it took six before Harry collapsed. As he started to go under he had this thought: "Was I speaking English or Parseltongue toward the end? ...shit."

* * *

Harry woke to the familiar sound of his friends bickering. It didn't seem at all odd that Malfoy's voice was among them. He was really starting to think he should just move into the Hospital Wing. It would save people an awful lot of time carting his stuff back and forth so he could study in here.

"-likely didn't even know what Harry was saying, for heaven's sake!" Hermione chided someone viciously. "I think he was trying to defend Malfoy and it just looked like he was attacking because they couldn't understand what he was saying!"

Draco sneered at her. "How was I supposed to know that, Granger? Snarling, hissing, spitting venom over people, breaking the damned floor with that sledge of a tail! He had to be stunned! Don't get caught in a snit over it. It isn't like we euthanized him-"

A loud thudding sound made Harry's eyes open and he looked down to see Malfoy wiping a bloody nose, glaring at Ron, who had finally decked him. "You almost killed a good friend of ours that way, you snake."

"Mate, could you not use 'snake' as an insult? It's a bit... well, insulting." Harry sat up and stretched. Then he promptly fell off the bed with a surprised yelp because he'd been draped over it instead of lying in it and hadn't noticed. Ron's apology was peppered by snickers and snorts.

Malfoy didn't try to speak, presumably because he thought it would sound nasally and frustrate him even more than he already was. Madame Pomfrey was already kneeling with her wand pointed at his face to fix it anyhow, and she tutted at Ron.

"Alright, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

A glare was his only response.

Harry winced. "Look, Hermione's right. I wasn't concentrating, and didn't manage to switch to English when I should have. I only started out in Parseltongue to scare them away from you. It's hard to switch it off... used to be I spoke English naturally and would accidentally lapse into Parseltongue when I wasn't paying attention, or when I saw a snake it was automatic. Now Parseltongue is my native language and I have to think to speak English. I really didn't mean to scare you, alright? I sure as hell meant to scare _them_, but not you. I'm sorry."

"Not going to defend me then?" Malfoy demanded, gesturing rudely to Ron.

Harry lifted a brow and grinned. "Well, you did almost have our friend executed. It's about time someone hit you for that."

"-you mean the beast from Care of Magical Creatures? It nearly took my arm off! It was irresponsible for anyone to have _students_ working with XXX Class creatures in the first place! My pride is irrelevant there - it could have really hurt someone!" The blonde turned a bit pink as he ranted. "Yes, I was a little prat about it, but _Hagrid_," he was careful to say rather than 'that oaf', "legitimately put the class in danger there."

Harry put his hands up, impressed that he'd said something completely rational in response to the jibe.

"He has a point, Ronald." Hermione had retrieved the papers Malfoy dropped when Ron had hit him. "At the very least we should have been supervised by a teacher that was allowed to use a wand."

Ron coughed and faced away from them. "Yeah, fine."

"You still haven't apologized, Weasley," Malfoy hissed.

"Not gonna'."

"Enough!" Hermione groaned, clutching her hair like she was going to pull it out. I swear, the both of you!"

Harry snapped his fingers to get their attention. "Alright, alright. What happened to the rest of the purists that attacked Malfoy?"

Madame Pomfrey came over to look at Harry and sighed. "Well, they've been arrested for assault, but they won't be for long. And we've been forbidden by the Ministry from revealing their identities. Something about this being a learning experience and McGonagall's unofficial permission to punish such indiscretions at school."

"What?" Harry asked, concerned. "They're testing her?"

"We just got out of a war, Potter. There is no way to avoid things like this happening, because everyone's too bloody crazy after it all. The wounds are still raw. Some have festered." He crossed his arms and swallowed. "Even the Gryffindors are doing it, and the Slytherins are lashing out at one of their own because they're libel to get lynched if they dare to fight back against the rest of the houses. I'm their only target... the only acceptable one, anyway. It isn't about purists anymore. They're being tormented, and they want to take it out on someone."

"You haven't noticed because, well you've got your own things to deal with right now. But the D.A. has mobilized trying to keep the bullying down and defend the Slytherins. It's not been going well. Some of the families... they way they raised their children... it's nearly impossible for most of them to cast a Patronus, Harry. We've been trying to teach those who are the worst off in the teasing to summon help. It isn't working well." Hermione put her hand on Draco's shoulder, and - wonder of wonders - he let her.

Harry growled.

"STOP that!" Malfoy snapped at him. He'd jumped a bit at the sound, away from Harry. "I'm still a bit shaken from your rampage, you bast- OW!"

Hermione had smacked the back of his head and glared down at him with her hands on her hips. _"Language."_

Blinking, Malfoy looked to Ron. "Is this normal?"

Ron smiled. "You get used to it."

"...good luck, then." Malfoy concluded. "You'll be a heck of a mother, though."

Hermione gave him a surprised, yet appreciative look.

They were all quiet after that until the elves brought them tea.

"I'll go," Malfoy stated suddenly.

They all looked at him oddly. "Where?" Ron asked.

"To the Chamber of Secrets. That's what you offered me in the first place, isn't it? I didn't want to go at first because I assumed it was some sort of trap, or it was like being under house arrest - a safe place but with no interaction or comforts. But I can't imagine you lot would make it miserable for me." He took a few drinks and shook his head. "The safe rooms aren't living up to their name, and Potter's Cloak isn't-" he paused. "I haven't been taking it because I don't want it damaged, and I could easily be tracked if they just waited outside my door for it to open. I could pay back a life debt, but not the loss of an heirloom like that."

"I care more about your life than the cloak, Malfoy." The blonde's grey eyes focused sharply on him, wide as saucers. "I mean it though. I've always valued life over things. Sure the cloak was my dad's and I'd miss it, be furious someone destroyed it, but I'd rather you not get hurt for a bit of old cloth."

Ron paled. "Harry, you don't know what that means to the old families. Stop sayin' that. You're making him uncomfortable."

Hermione just shook her head indulgently at them and gave Malfoy a look Harry couldn't read, but Malfoy obviously could because he suddenly looked nervous and stared at his cup.

Unwilling to let the silence carry on, Harry righted himself. "When you're done, we'll go, alright? Just let me know, Malfoy."

The blonde's hands gripped the cup until it made a protesting squeak of skin sliding on porcelain. "You may as well use my given name, Potter. You said we were friends, right?"

Harry nodded and smiled, a warmth in his chest. "Yeah. Use mine, then. I just didn't think you'd want to is all."

Draco snorted. "You're a bloody imbecile, _Harry_."

* * *

"This is it," Harry stated. "What do you think?"

Draco held his glowing wand higher as he tried to focus on his surroundings. The place was sufficiently massive enough to inflate his ego as a Slytherin, especially since it had been successfully hidden for so long, but the actual contents of the chamber had him wincing.

Everything glowed green, as the Slytherin Dormitories did, though the source of the light here was impossible to detect. Huge towering pillars entwined with serpents rose higher than Draco could discern in the gloom. The unnecessarily large statue of Salazar Slytherin at the end of the room had its mouth open wide, and at its feet lie the bones of the Basilisk Draco had been trying to tell himself Potter couldn't possibly have defeated at eleven years old. The beast must have come out of the statue's mouth in a reference to Parseltongue that bore the subtlety of a meteor strike. After the serpent on the tap, the Parseltongue password, the serpents on the door, the basilisk skin in the hallway, and the scales shimmering at his feet, Draco's eye began to twitch.

"Really?" he muttered to himself. He turned and continued to examine the chamber, hoping he could find some small redeeming quality in it.

He did not. The place seemed deliberately designed by a child trying to create a comically decorated villain's lair in a fairy tale. At least Potter's presence provided some welcome color in the gloom, despite adding to the ridiculously overwhelming snake vibe. Even the Slytherin Dormitories themselves didn't display their icon in every nook and cranny as if it were their singular defining trait; they had a bit of style about it.

He was seriously considering renaming this place The Chamber of Gaudy Obviousness.

"Care to share?" Harry asked out of curiosity.

Draco's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I'm sensing a theme here…"

"And?" Harry pressed, already amused.

"This man was either terribly full of himself or _very bored_," Draco concluded in a drawling tone.

Harry's laughter echoed off the walls and unseen ceiling.

That, at least, was enough to lighten the mood.


	12. Dreams and Desires

Correction!

For Kate518: Harry was TWELVE when he killed the Basilisk, not eleven. Thanks for pointing that out! My math was off, I admit it. Still, that doesn't make it any less impressive.

DragonWing05: That was my feeling when I wrote it!

Fangirl1: Thank you for being so interested, but I am not only a fanfiction writer: I am also a wife and mother with a career. I got shit to do, honey. Calm down. I'll update when I get to it. I have been looking into the Dragon option as suggested by previous reviewers, but I think I would like to explore the concept of Male Veela first.

All: I did not like the original ending. I scrapped it.. all three chapters of it. This is the new ending I have written, since the story has gone out of control and jumped outline to the current beast we have here. For those who don't already know; the ending of a story is a completely different beast than the beginning. You really never know what direction it will lunge in, and you can only hope you can compensate. Also - I like parts of this chapter so much I may use it as a basis for a new story. Just the beginning here, mind. It seems like a wonderful place to begin a Prince-and-the-Pauper like thing. Anyone want to give me suggestions on the pairing for that one? I originally saw Ron/Draco, but I'm open to suggestions.

I spent a lot longer on review and revision on this one, since I've scrapped an entirely complete set of chapters and replaced them. Hope everyone likes it.

* * *

**_"We must combine the toughness of the serpent with the softness of the dove, a tough mind and a tender heart." ~ Martin Luther King, Jr._**

They had called it 'Restitution'.

The main problem with being associated with the losing side of a war in any sense was that, eventually, it became monstrously expensive. When repairs needed to be made, indemnities paid, court costs settled, and protection established, gold had a way of slipping through one's fingers like water. Ministry raids searching for dark artifacts and illegal books had become summons for audit. Many of the previously wealthy and influential Pure-Blood lines had suffered dearly for their involvement in the Dark Lord's reign, Marked or not. Fortunes dwindled internationally as Galleons were poured into repairing Muggle and Wizarding areas alike, fixing schools and prisons and infrastructure, healing the wounded, holding funerals and memorial events, and paying the civil servants doing all of the grunt work.

Draco supposed that he and his family should be glad they weren't in Azkaban rather than raging petulantly over the loss of material things. They had far more than they thought possible in the event of a loss; they had each other. The entire family was alive, free and together, and it ought to have been enough. It really ought to have been.

It was difficult, however, to ignore the sinking in his gut when he watched the ancient four-poster bed that he'd slept in every night since he was three, which his father had slept in from that age to adulthood, being taken to auction. He remembered having to use little steps to get into it – the steps, in fact, matched the elegantly carved oak frame perfectly. It too had been taken. His wardrobe with scenes from celtic faery tales was taken soon after, along with the rugs and tapestries and silver and crystal goblets. Everything, anything in the Manor that would sell for a decent price had been taken from them to pay reparations. It was as if the Malfoy name had been relegated overnight to the rank of common peasantry, and the Domesday Book was being written again. Not a bit of cloth or silver or animal or acre of land had been spared from the audit, and they had been left with naught but enough to survive, and only that.

They were fortunate to have their wands, and the clothes on their backs, and a working stove to cook on. Besides that, however, it wasn't much. Even the House-Elves, who prided themselves on the house they attached themselves to rather than the family they served, had left. The Manor wasn't grand enough for them anymore. It was barely a shell of the elegant grandeur it had been only weeks before, stripped almost to bare stone and wood and plaster with the portraits of those Malfoys that would not sell well enough to justify taking them laying in protected areas of the manor floors. Even the frames and hooks and wire that held them to the walls were now gone.

Narcissa had made herself ill from the stress. She had wrapped herself in a blanket that had come from the Black House when she had left; a quilt she had made herself before the pampered life of a Malfoy had made her forget she had useful skills. She shivered in front of the fireplace from shock, not cold, while leaning against an only slightly steadier Lucius. Lucius was still recovering from the horror of his experiences playing host to the Dark Lord and his entourage in the Manor. Draco suspected that he was only allowing himself to recover from one thing at a time, and he was simply unable to process the agony of their true situation just yet. Lucius would mourn his trauma, then he would mourn his home. For the moment he was silent and stared into the flames blankly, as if not seeing them, and kept his arm around his shivering wife

Draco had left them in the comfort of the parlour, the room that the Floo Network was connected to, and went outside to do some work. He would not let himself collapse in melancholy like his parents had. It wasn't time yet. He would allow the shock to set in and consume him only when he was secure for the night. First thing first. Unlike his Mother and Father, Draco knew where the vegetable patch and orchard were. Hopefully they hadn't been uprooted like the elaborate flower gardens immediately behind the house. Even the plants, every last blossom, had been potted and carted away. The fountain, which had provided gentle noise for Draco to sleep to every day of his life, was now a crater with blocked plumbing in the pitted, brown earth.

As he walked he missed the sound of the peacocks. He saw not a single feather left behind, as even those could be used in Potions and to decorate. They, as well, were lost. It was all the youngest Malfoy could do not to let the weight of his new life press him to the ground. Instead he swallowed his tears and took deep breaths and continued to trudge past the tree line.

Luckily, his hopes quite literally bore fruit. He hadn't a bag or cart to use, but he took off his robe despite the night chill and lay it on the ground. For the first time in his life outside of Herbology class, Draco Malfoy plunged his hands willingly into cold dirt. It was hard work, something he wasn't used to. Giving up wasn't something he was willing to do, though, and he was hungry. There was no point in going to sleep on an empty stomach. That would only weaken him further and his parents needed to eat. Only when his robe was piled with onions, potatoes, peppers, zucchini, beans, cabbage, apples, and grapes did he stop to rest.

There, sitting on the ground with the cold of the night air chilling his top and the cold of the ground chilling his bottom, he sat quietly and waited. Twenty minutes went by before his patience paid off and a hare and his mate came to steal the cabbages. Draco cast a swift and simple cutting charm, tied the headless bodies into one of the sleeves, and began to drag his prizes back toward home. It was heavy and he had to stop and cast a lightening charm before continuing to the wood shed. There, Draco piled several large pieces of wood in what little of the cloak was available for it, cast another charm to lighten it, and made his way back to the parlour. It had been a productive two hours.

"Draco?" his mother asked curiously as he came in and dumped the cloak on the floor. "Ah, the farmland is intact. You've done wonderful work, son." Her voice was relieved. "Do you know how to skin those?"

Draco paused. He had been on his way out to the well when the question startled him. "No," he admitted.

Narcissa crawled out from under the blanket and held out her hand to him. "Transfigure a knife for me, then. I do."

Draco did and left her to fetch water, steadfastly refusing to admit to himself he had a new respect for House-Elves. When he returned with the water, his mother had already stoked the fire, added the wood and skinned the hares. She smiled at him and set a cauldron she deemed scoured well enough to cook in hovering over the flames and filled it with water. They both washed vegetables.

There were simpler ways to do this to be sure, but like any other sort of magic household spells had to bea learned. The Malfoys did not know any. Narcissa had, but she'd not had cause to use them for so long that the few she attempted must not have been pronounced right, or she had moved her wand the wrong way, and they either didn't work or had incorrect effects. Rather than lose another of the vegetables, she washed them by hand. Draco was nonetheless impressed she knew how to skin and quarter game, and made a point to ask her how.

He swore he would never again be caught so unprepared. He couldn't fathom how he would have prepared those hares without his mother teaching him the way, and it was an essential survival skill. He had heard through the Prophet how Potter, Granger and Weasley had camped out in hiding for months in the wilds. Would Draco have survived like that without even knowing how to identify edible plant life and hunt more than small game, and not even how to clean it? No. He didn't think he would have. He realized that he'd been terribly pampered, and the problem with being pampered is that when the support system powering that failed it became incredibly difficult to do the simplest things, like eat.

Never again. Draco would learn to fend for himself within a year, without magic even, in the event his wand was lost. He _would_. He could already tell they were in for many trials and work. It was quite obvious that Draco and Lucius knew next to nothing of living without ample conveniences, and Narcissa was the one they would be relying on increasingly in the coming months for lessons and resources. She had been a Black, and they had valued strength on all levels, rather than flaunting the lofty values of a Malfoy. Years of being the spoiled wife of an aristocrat would soon melt like snow in spring and she would remember how to do her chores again. They would learn a lot from her.

Not long after that they had a makeshift stew simmering. There were no spices, as the herb garden had been too close to the flower beds and had therefore been devastated, but they were hungry enough that it smelled wonderful regardless. Draco had not known that, despite fine dining every day of one's life, eating next to nothing for a few days would make anything appealing so long as it wasn't rotten. Silently Narcissa took her place near Lucius again, and Draco stirred the stew to be certain it wouldn't burn. The tension of their week long ordeal paying off the audit with everything but the structure of their family home was thick in the air.

Narcissa stood and got a sad-looking broom, and begun swinging it in the air toward a window that had been 'accidentally' broken by the moving crew.

"Mother? What are you doing?" Draco asked worriedly.

"Wait. You'll see." She said simply, and kept sweeping the air.

It looked to Draco as if she were shooing pixies out of the house and he wondered if this was some Black tradition he was unaware of, but his back straightened when the room began to feel lighter and less stuffy. "What did you do?"

"Magic is many things, Draco," she said as she came over to test the stew, putting the broom down. "Sometimes you just need to accept that it doesn't always make sense."

"…did you just 'sweep out the sadness'?" he asked her incredulously. It had been a part of a childhood rhyme she told him a lot when he was little.

She smiled. "I did."

"That's ridiculous!" He threw his arms up in exasperation.

She nodded to him. "I know. But it worked, did it not? Can't you breathe easier?"

Draco crossed his arms and grumbled, "It's still ridiculous."

A while later Lucius shifted and stood. Neither his wife nor son asked where he was going. They knew he was just as hungry as they were, and would return before long. When he did it had been nearly half an hour and the stew was cooling next to the hearth to a temperature they could actually handle. He had a bottle of wine in his hands. "Hidden treasures, Lucius?" Narcissa asked him gently.

"The mantle drawer in the Library had been painted over. The seams couldn't be seen. They missed this in their hurry to take our books." Lucius sat down on the floor with his family and used a simple charm to uncork it. "I hid it from you when you were pregnant. It was our anniversary and you insisted we should have a glass from this bottle, as we had this same wine on our wedding day. You weren't yet in the later stages, so I put it away for fear you wouldn't react well."

Draco looked between his parents with envy and pity. So many memories, both good and bad; he wanted that for himself someday. He hoped fervently that the bad part was over by now. He didn't know if he could handle any more.

"We have no glasses," Narcissa said suddenly. Lucius frowned.

"Just a moment." Draco transfigured three of the buttons from his cloak into goblets. He was better at the subject than either of his parents, and it had been far too many years since their first year to remember the simple charm.

"Oh, Draco… your cloak." Lucius looked with clear worry at the grime and hare blood on the Hogwarts cloak his son had used to carry his supplies back to the house.

Draco shook his head at his father. "It was ruined anyway. A few buttons won't matter. I've another cloak still, and I don't plan on going back to school."

Narcissa looked to the blanket she had round her shoulders, then to the cloak. Lucius poured the wine. "I will repair it. You must return to school, Draco. We no longer have the resources to survive without your finding a career. Both your father and I have our graduation papers, but you do not. You have missed too many lessons to pass the N.E.W.T. exams without a year to catch up, and we no longer have the books to tutor you here."

Lucius handed his wife and son their goblets while Draco transfigured more brick-a-brack into bowls and spoons. The room was depressingly bare. Draco actually had to go get small stones out of the yard. "Be reasonable, Cissy. It will be difficult enough to get by without worrying over our son in a hostile environment, as Hogwarts is likely to be for Slytherins for a decade or so yet. He will be in danger."

Narcissa sipped delicately at the stew. One could barely taste the meat, and it wouldn't give them much energy in the long run. "I am aware, but the school may provide some protection for those in such situations. He may be safer there than at the Manor. At least there he will have some friends, and witnesses."

"Mother is right," Draco sighed angrily. "Hogwarts was never about learning from in the first place. I would have been better served with private tutors than a boarding school. Hogwarts is the place for prestigious children to make contacts for future business ventures, not to learn."

"Very good, Draco," Lucius praised. "You understand more than I did at your age."

"But it is the only option you have now for finishing your education, and I will not have you the first Malfoy in six centuries not fully schooled." Narcissa stood and draped the blanket over her son, who was considerably chilled now after his excursions. "Your father and I will survive for that long until you can return. I know more than I have forgotten of household things. We may not have the option of careers; no one will hire us now. However we are not helpless. We still have our land if nothing else, and that is a blessing. It may take some practice, but I can cook and harvest and preserve. Your father can hunt. We will persevere. You must as well."

Lucius began stacking the few spare vegetables in a corner and cast a preservation charm on them. Narcissa took the cloak and started to spell away the grime and stains. It looked decent enough, even without the buttons that would be replaced soon enough.

Draco sighed again, biting his lip. "Yes. I suppose you're right."

Once fed enough to be content and full of some good wine, the Malfoys sat together before the fire huddled close. It was a large room and the fire was doing them little good, what with the window broken and a limited wood supply. One could start fires with charms, sure, but it needed wood to burn. Even the bluebell flames gave off no useful heat, as they had no fuel. The quilt was thankfully large enough to wrap around them all if they stayed close, and though the floor was bare it made more sense to wrap up in it than lay on it. They would have to deal with the dust on their robes for the time being.

Draco saw a long day of transfiguring useful things ahead of him, if their search of the Manor in the morning turned up little in the way of things like blankets and clothes and containers for water. At least they had food, and water, and a roof, and firewood. That would have to be enough for now.

* * *

Draco woke slowly to the smell of Sandalwood soap. Damn memories. Only the things he'd stored at school; his divination supplies and such, had been spared. Since he had come back he had been caught up in the situation of staying alive and had spared little thought to his parents, who would have to be doing well enough on their own. They had to be, or Draco didn't know how he would live with himself.

He had no idea how Potter had managed to talk him into this. He ought to be out deciding what his career would be, studying... not assisting in this idiocy. Or hiding. Yes... he was definitely hiding. His parents had thought, for a time, that encouraging Draco to marry someone with money might prove to be their salvation. In Draco's mind, though, that was erroneous logic. He would be miserable either way, and his parents had their happiness with each other already. He loved them, but they were together and surviving. Why should he have to submit to a bad match to make them more comfortable? They certainly hadn't sacrificed their beliefs in the war to save HIM the trouble of having to learn the way things were the hard way.

Blood Purity didn't matter. He had now thoroughly learned that from all angles he could. Granger needed to stop hitting him with books, as that was her primary method of getting things across. Actually she needed to stop hitting everyone with books, Draco merely included in the already long list. And Potter. And Weasley. She was very fond of it, he thought. Eventually he would have a groove worn through his forehead.

_Harry_, he supposed. It was just odd to think like that, let alone say it. When the hell had they gotten so damned familiar? It sure hadn't been in the library when the idiot had first approached him, though watching him knock over the Carrow twins had been funny enough to merit his attention. The barrels had been an unfortunate episode. Was it the cloak that had done it? Draco knew the meaning behind such a gesture. WEASLEY knew the meaning, from how he had paled at Harry's comment before. But did Harry know?

Likely not.

He'd been raised by Muggles, hadn't come into his inheritance just yet, since the deeper Potter Vaults were to be made available only after graduation from Hogwarts and not the simple coming of age that most vaults would have been applied to. Somehow that gave Draco a bit of respect for the Potters, requiring a finished education rather than simple existence at seventeen to inherit. It meant that valued skill, work, and worth over order of birth or level of power.

And Potter... _Harry.._. had _POWER._

It could not be denied. It was obvious, it was glaring, and it was undeniable even for Draco's sleep-deprived mind.

On top of that, he was lying on Harry.

There had been nowhere to sleep in the Chamber. Harry hadn't had time to prepare a spot for Draco in this mess of a place because he, honestly, hadn't been certain the blonde would come here in the first place. And Draco was positively, endlessly, soul-numbingly tired.

Harry had seemed to think, because he slept on floors a lot anyway, Draco wouldn't mind letting him be the bed. Draco was considering asking if Harry was insane or flirting; he really couldn't tell.

Harry was curled into a corner of the Chamber, back to a wall, lower body a coiled cushion keeping the blonde off the floor. Draco had no idea how long they had been asleep, or even if Harry had been asleep at all. The glowing green eyes were open and looking at him when he woke. Draco stared back at them and maintained a mask of steely indifference as best he could.

"What were you dreaming about?" Harry asked.

Draco winced, and told him. What the hell. If he was going to trust someone, he could have made worse choices. And besides, Potter was, after all, quite wealthy. If nothing else it might get him a loan.


	13. Collapse

Seriously/Guest: I am aware of the concept of Old Money and land ownership as it stands, as well as your frustration with how the Malfoy's wealth is taken from them so often in fanfiction. It is for that reason that I deliberately mentioned the Domesday Book, as I have an issue with it as well. I was going to explain it later in the story, but it seems a more immediate explanation is necessary to placate nitpickers. (There is absolutely nothing wrong with nitpicking - I certainly do it too).

I believe that the following can more or less be assumed in the case of this story:

When Armand Malfoy came over from France in the Norman Invasion, he served William the Conquerer in ways shady and magical in nature. In exchange he was granted the current Malfoy estate in Wiltshire, which they hold to this day. That property was likely taken into account in the Domesday Book (commissioned by William the Conquerer in 1085) when it was completed in 1086, though later it must have been altered by the Ministry (founded in or around 1629) to comply with the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy signed in 1689. Therefore there is both a Muggle version of the Domesday Book and a complete, accurate Wizarding version of it as well.  
When the Domesday Book was written it was largely called what it was, "Day of Judgement", because a fuckload of lands and properties (I don't have an approximate value for 'fuckload', but be assured it is a lot) was basically stolen and given to William's buddies. "New government, new rules. This is ours now." Because he's the King and he can do that shit. At that time mostly any excuse was used as a legitimate reason to take property, and there was absolutely no option for appeal. The chronicler's decisions were final.  
The fact that those lands and properties had belonged to other people that had been there for centuries before had no bearing on the decision, any more than it kept the United States from forcing Natives off of their lands, the Japanese from forcefully removing the natives of their country (known as Ainu), or basically anybody from seizing stuff because they had the power and they could.  
When Kingsley Shacklebolt became Minister of Magic in 1998, he began " reshuffling the Ministry thoroughly and becoming instrumental in the repairs of the wizarding world following Voldemort's reign of terror. He managed to revolutionise the way that the ministry worked, and with the assistance of Hermione Granger, he eradicated pro-pureblood laws." In other words? "New government, new rules." Hence how it is entirely possible that the Malfoys lands and properties may have been essentially pillaged by the reigning government to help pay for the war's aftermath, which is made all the more likely given that they were definitely working with the losing side. This may not have happened in Cannon, but it is still very, very likely to have occurred to the Death Eater group as a whole, which was most of the very wealthy, making them easy targets for fast funds.  
The fact that your friend's family never pissed off the reigning government enough to have their land seized is moot. It happens all the time. It's unfair, but there it is. I don't like it either.  
Look it up if you don't believe me. I DO think before I write. I always do. Perhaps you should do the same before reviewing.

[Sincere apologies to other reviewers for that rant. I won't be called stupid.]

* * *

_"A serpent is a serpent, and none the less a viper, because it is nestled in the bosom of an honest-hearted man." ~Martin Delany_

Harry listened intently to Draco's story. His Naga abilities were throwing him for a loop because, even though the Slytherin was speaking rather softly and was facing down, Harry's body still sensed the vibration from their contact and he could still understand the words perfectly well. It was as if his ears weren't working, but he was getting words through Ligilimency instead of images.

As he listened, Harry found himself with very little sympathy. Draco seemed to sense this and he quieted without much elaboration beyond that first night and waited for Harry's reaction.

So they had to hunt and farm for their food? So what? Harry had gone on many hunting trips with Ron and his brothers and helped Ginny and Mrs. Weasley weed the garden. He'd fetched eggs from the chicken hut for everyone's breakfast and chased gnomes out of the yard more times than he could remember so they wouldn't pick the flowers they would sometimes sell to the apothecary in Hogsmeade. Once Harry had even assisted Mr. Weasley in cleaning the game that the boys caught in the nearby woods and ground sausage and pickled vegetables. Hell, he even knew how to make cheese, now. It was only difficult to do those things the first few times and then they began to feel like normal chores. Harry supposed, though, that it must be a bit of culture shock for the Malfoys; at least Lucius and Draco anyhow. It sounded like Narcissa had her act together. And if they had their wands then it wouldn't be terribly difficult to get by; it would only take them practice.

It would have been rude to say, "So?" and Harry wouldn't do that to a friend, but he didn't want to say he was sorry either because he wasn't. All in all the Malfoys were pretty well off as far as Harry was concerned, despite it being hard work. Still…

Even though Witches and Wizards all over the world lived like that every day given the lack of Muggle technology kept their lives relatively simple, most at least had the funds to buy supplies. Harry couldn't think of how the Malfoys were going to buy simple things like soap, tea, flour and the like if they only had enough farmland to support themselves and nothing to sell. Even farmers needed an income to support themselves. The way things were for them Harry doubted they'd be able to make bread, let alone do their laundry. He already knew he was going to end up helping them out.

First though, Harry needed to know something.

"How did you still have those books on Naga and stuff if the Ministry audited you guys bare?" he asked.

Draco gave him an annoyed stare and Harry immediately thought himself an idiot. "The Cellar," they said in unison.

"When we searched the manor in the next days we found that there were a lot of hiding places within the support pillars we weren't aware of before," Draco explained. "You never went all the way in, but the cellar is the entire length and breadth of the Manor. Every pillar had a hidden access point on it somewhere, and though not all of them contained something, many did. A lot of it was essentially useless to us. Ivory comb, mirror, and brush sets lined in gold are nice for occasional use or gifts, but not for every day. There were some jewels, cursed things that Father managed to destroy before they took hold of anyone, an unaltered copy of our family tree up until the eighteenth century… that we kept. Everything else Mother sold in secret. If the Ministry found out we still had those things then they would have been taken away from us, certainly with the excuse that the audit had been remiss in a few calculations and we owed them more."

Harry closed his eyes and thought about that. "You're right. They would have." There was a tense silence. Harry chuckled. "You act like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"I am. We were enemies for seven years, Harry. A few months of mostly friendly relations isn't going to make me terribly confident sharing these things with you," Draco said. "And your best mate is the son of our Auditor, you know."

"That," Harry said slowly, ", is probably why you escaped with things in your Cellar." The tense silence just after that statement told Harry that Draco hadn't actually thought of that. Harry would bet anything Arthur had intentionally left them things to sell. "Do your parents have the things they need to get by? Where are they living? It doesn't seem like staying in the Manor is a good idea with winter coming. Even if they just pick one room and wall it off from the rest of the house it's going to be too cold. A smaller house would be easier to heat with a fire."

Draco groaned lightly. "I hadn't thought of that. There aren't any smaller structures, though. Since we had House-Elves that lived in the kitchens there isn't even a Servant's Wing."

Harry nodded. "So what do you intend to do?"

"I'd build a cottage for them if I knew how, Harry." Draco sat up and rubbed his face furiously to get the sleep out of his eyes. "I want to learn how to survive without all the conveniences my upbringing allowed me. I felt completely outdone by my mother as she remembered how to do things no Malfoy had done in hundreds of years, even if it was as simple as sewing or gathering seeds for planting next year. I love my Father, but he didn't teach me enough, because his father hadn't taught him enough either."

"That's a pretty admirable goal, Malfoy," Ron said suddenly.

Draco startled so violently he almost fell off of Harry and onto the floor, but Harry caught him with his tail and held him upright. "How the bloody hell did you get here!? I thought Harry was the only one that could open the door!"

"You're 'Harry' now?" Ron asked the Naga with a grin.

"Well, when a bloke reaches a certain age-" Harry began.

Hermione snickered. "You know what he meant."

"Shove off," Draco hissed at them. "How did you get in here?"

"Me an' Ginny can speak a bit of Parseltongue," Ron explained with a bit of a mock in his tone.

Hermione shifted behind him and Ron winced. "Harry talks in his sleep, so Ron heard enough over the years to learn a few words and imitate them. Ginny, well, you know that part."

Hermione was behind Ron with a stern look on her face. Ron's right arm was behind him and out of sight, but Harry could safely assume Hermione had it twisted in a death grip behind him to keep the redhead's mouth in line. Draco had been watching his mouth on blood prejudice issues, Hermione and he had connected intellectually if not ethically, and Harry was getting on well with him completely. But something they wouldn't soon forget was that the Weasley/Malfoy feud was still going strong. Draco was trying and so was Ron, but both occasionally let slip and an all-out two-man war would ensue for a few hours at least. Harry and Hermione had chosen their side in this was that both of them were being stupid, and did their best to keep their respective idiots under control.

When it looked like Draco was about to shout something again, Harry's tail tightened around him a little in warning. Though the blonde gave him a tight-lipped stare he held his tongue. "You're safe here, I promise. They're my friends, alright?" he said gently. There was no reply, but the blonde ceased his struggles to get free. Meanwhile Harry felt Ron whisper, "Let go of me, woman. I'll be good." Ron's arm came to the front again and he cleared his throat. His wrist was red.

Harry and Hermione shared a satisfied glance.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't patronize me, Weasley," Draco said at last when the moment had passed. He was, for the moment, ignoring that his rival family could get to him at any time. It made Harry smile a bit to know that his trust in his friends was being respected without argument; at least for now.

Ron grit his teeth a bit. "I wasn't. I honestly think it's admirable you want to learn how to do solid work."

Harry finally released Draco so he could slip his shoes back on and stand on the floor. "What are you guys doing here, anyway?" He asked as he uncoiled from the corner to stretch out. Draco looked up at him as he did this mock-rearing to be rid of the tight feeling in his muscles, then quickly looked away again. Harry wondered what he looked so nervous about. Yes, Harry was big, but it wasn't something Draco should have to worry about. He really hoped the episode in the hall hadn't made the blonde afraid of him.

Hermione put the basket she'd brought with them down and took the blanket Ron was carrying. She cast a scouring charm on the floor until it was clean and an entirely different color than the floor surrounding it, then lay the blanket down. "We came to help get Malfoy situated. Not even the Elves can get in here without the door being open, and since that's rather the opposite of what we brought him here to achieve we'll need to straighten it up ourselves."

Draco was honestly surprised. "You came to help set the chamber to rights for me?"

Ron sighed and crossed his arms. "Think of it this way; would you help me out, now that you and Harry are friends?"

Draco didn't hesitate. "If he asked me to, yes."

Ron shrugged. "There you have it, then. Harry and I have been best mates since first year, an' I love him more than I hate you. Easy."

"Simple, but it makes sense," Draco drawled at him.

"As for your goal," Ron continued, ", Harry and I are planning to go and fish this coming weekend at a lake near the Burrow. If you're serious about learning to fend for yourself without all the pomp and pleasure, you ought to come with us. You'd better be ready to work, though, 'cause I'm not on this for a rest. The meat from our last hunt is running out and Mum needs things in the cupboard."

Hermione and Harry stared at the redhead with pride and impress. They hadn't actually expected him to invite his rival family's heir on the expedition, so they hadn't suggested it. It was Ron's trip, not theirs, so it would have been rude to invite a novice without permission. Hermione would be at the Burrow helping fix fences for the animal pen, so she wouldn't be along.

Draco stared off into space for a bit. "I haven't the tools," he admitted.

Harry put his hand on Draco's shoulder. "We make them. When we get to the lake we'll find saplings to use for rods."

"And the line?" Draco asked, suddenly very interested.

"Here, watch." Hermione came forward and pulled a single hair out of her crown, where it was the longest. She gripped it with both fingers at one end and, sliding her right hand down the length while her left remained securely at the top, she chanted a short wandless charm. The hair had become far longer and a bit thicker, and shimmered with strength. "This is why a lot of Witches and Wizards in domestic settings have very long hair," she explained. "It can be used to make more useful things than one can count if you're good at transfiguration. Line, thread, needles, pins, ribbon, twine for cooking; some people even use it to weave fabric. With the right spell you can have another of equal length grow back in it's place within an hour or so if you cast when you pull it out, and if Harry gives us some of his, long as it is, we might even be able to make a net to make the fishing easier."

Harry grasped a lock of his long, jet-black hair in his clawed hand. "Yeah, I suppose that's a good idea. If you're not going to marry someone with long hair, I suggest you grow yours out, Draco. There's only so far it can stretch before it starts to get weak."

"Show me," Draco said intensely.

Ron took off his shoes and sat on the blanket. While he set out the food they'd brought in the basket to make their work less exhausting for everyone's supper, he watched approvingly as Harry and Hermione taught Draco how to transfigure hair into a multitude of things. He was beginning to like the blonde git, despite his efforts not to get involved in what Harry was doing. This only made him a bit proud of the spoiled Slytherin prince, and that annoyed him. Trust Harry Potter to start the end of the centuries-long feud.

"Oi. The food is out. There'll be time for that during free period on Friday," he said.

Draco reluctantly let the lesson end and came to sit with the rest of them. As Harry was entirely too big for the blanket he simply wound around it and stopped with his torso near Draco. Hermione replicated a single Emu egg into twenty and filled the basket before passing it to him, as well as handing him a wrapped, raw set of four bone-in lamb legs. Helpfully, he slithered away with the meat to eat it away from the others so it wouldn't spoil their appetites and returned to eat the eggs in their company. The rest of them had soup and sandwiches along with tea and milk. Supper didn't last long before the work began.

It was exhausting, but between the four of them they managed to get an area of the Chamber cleaned out well enough to walk on barefoot without worry. Hermione had shrunk Draco's dormitory furniture with McGonagall's permission and brought them in her seemingly bottomless bag. In short order it was all restored, as well as a rug for the floor and two screens to block the area from the rest of the chamber.

Harry busied himself using his sledge of a tail to smash the Basilisk remains and shove it aside and as far away from Draco's area as he could. As he did so he began to sweat and pant a bit. His stomach already felt empty after only a few hours of working. He was stubborn, though, and continued until the room started to spin around him.

Ron, Hermione and Draco looked up at the loud thump as Harry hit the floor. Three voices called his name and steps thundered toward him just as the world went black.

* * *

"Harry!" Ron grabbed his friend's shoulders and shook them with no effect. "Bloody hell, mate, wake up!"

"What's the matter with him?" Hermione asked desperately. "He just ate, he shouldn't be this pale! Suppose he's sick?"

"He's starving to death," Draco stated blankly. Both Gryffindors went very still and stared at him in horror. "I tried to explain it to him. I did, but he wouldn't listen to me!" The blonde ran his fingers through is hair in frustration. "Naga can only gain power in two ways; directly from their metabolism or-" he bit his lip until it bled. "You should leave."

Hermione put her hands on his shoulders and looked at him squarely. "I hoped there was more time. Are you sure?"

"If I don't do something Harry is going to die. I knew it was heading this way the moment he gave me his family's heirloom." Draco swallowed nervously.

Ron quirked an eye brow at him. "Shouldn't have taken it then, should you?"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped.

Draco shook his head. "No, he's right. But I didn't take it! I actually tried to back away and leave. The imbecile trapped me and put it on my shoulders himself. He even secured it with his Godfather's clasp. I wasn't given a choice."

Ron palmed his face so hard it actually made a noise when it hit. "Merlin, he is that stupid. That's-"

"Something a Lord would do," Hermione finished and dropped her hands away from Malfoy. "Sometimes I think his head is stuck in hero mode, I really do. He doesn't seem to get that magic clings to symbolism."

Ron stood and walked to Malfoy. His eyes were hard. "You be sure," he ordered firmly. "If you're not and Harry finds out he won't forgive himself, especially after what you've been through since that potion."

Draco took a breath and nodded. "It isn't going to be necessary more than once. He's trapped in a downward spiral right now. The kata to achieve a human form would have worked if he'd had enough power to complete it. Once he gets the change right he won't need to generate his own power; he'll only need to sleep in his human form to stay connected to his Core. That won't happen, though, unless he has enough power to change. At this point there's only one way to get it." Harry stirred weakly and clenched a clawed hand on the stone. His claws cut through easily and Draco's hands snapped over his ears immediately, the sound disturbing him.

Hermione frowned. "You're afraid of him."

"It would be foolish of me to think Harry Potter harmless in any measure," he said dryly once he had moved his hands and she had repeated herself. "But I know he isn't cruel."

Ron took her wrist and pulled. "Come on, then."

"Ron, he's-"

"Malfoy has a job to do. Don't make it more difficult." Ron said reasonably.

Hermione let out a frustrated growl. "Oh, fine. Just… here." She tossed Draco a small bottle from her pocket. The liquid inside shimmered like opal dust and it smelled faintly of aloe. Draco knew immediately what it was and nodded his thanks. "You realize we'll have to be friends after this, right?"

Draco drew himself up proudly. "That remains to be seen," he sniped moodily. When they were gone and he heard the echo of the door close and many slithering locks slide into place, Draco swallowed and turned to the Naga lying unconscious and weak on the floor as Ginny Weasley had those years ago. "This cancels a life-debt you bastard." A quick second or two of math made him frown. "One of them at least."

With that decision made, Draco sat on his bed and waited for Harry to wake up. Soon enough he had fallen into an exhausted asleep and didn't notice the glowing green eyes watching him from the floor of the Chamber.


	14. Almost There

Akrakomatia: You are correct, I honestly didn't notice I was working against Gamp's Law here. I am highly influenced by Dungeons and Dragons when I think of magic though, because I have played nothing but spellcasters for over a decade now. This inevitably leaks into my views on Harry Potter whether I realize it or not. I apologize if this bothers you or anyone else. On the other hand, I think that there is something we can learn about magic in the Harry Potter world from Dungeons and Dragons, from this passage in the Complete Arcane V3.5 (trademark Wizards of the Coast) concerning The Nature of Magic:

_Mystery is a natural consequence of exclusivity, for with magic, knowledge is power in a very literal sense. A wise mage thinks long and carefully before sharing knowledge of a spell with someone she doesn't know well, and some magical innovations have been discovered and lost many times as a result. Likewise, countless fragments of learning and lore come to light again and again in the arcane world - innovations gleaned by individuals who then conceal their discoveries, or which are simply forgotten when their creators die._

Or from Harry Potter Wiki: Many familiar with the Deathly Hallows believed the Peverell family to be the brothers in the tale. Antioch Peverell, the eldest, taking the Elder Wand; Cadmus taking the Resurrection Stone; and Ignotus, the youngest, claiming the Cloak from Death. It is more likely, however, that they were simply three immensely powerful wizards who created the items themselves.

Harry's Invisibility Cloak is the only known one that will not fade with age. A lot of Wizards, before knowing the Hallows existed, would claim that making a permanently effective Invisibility Cloak would be impossible, even if they made such things professionally. In other words, Ignotus had discovered something he did not share, as did his brothers, and they knew something other creators of comparable yet inferior items did not, and that knowledge died with them. Discoveries and innovations are still being made, and may not be shared.

I'll really try not to break Gamp's Law or any other magical law again without sufficient explanation. My two favorite fandoms often blend pretty blatantly. Thanks for pointing that out. ^_^

* * *

"So I'd been captured? So I was starving?  
Did that mean I had to shrivel up and die?  
I could still slither. I could still hiss.  
Nothing had been stolen from me except my freedom.  
What I needed was a new plan."  
~ Patrick Jennings, _We Can't All Be Rattlesnakes_

He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He had just woken up in time to hear Hermione wish Draco had more time. It hadn't been until she tossed him the vial that Harry knew what they meant. His initial surprise kept him still and quiet while they talked, and past the point when Draco fell asleep. His calm, even breathing helped Harry relax enough to open his eyes and let his senses wander until they had all focused on the slumbering blonde.

"You be sure," Ron had said. And Draco had agreed.

Harry didn't know how to feel about that. On one hand he felt like Draco was doing this out of obligation, or because he needed his bodyguard alive, which were both relatively bad reasons if he had to examine it. On the other hand Harry found himself intrigued by the idea. He wasn't terribly experienced by any means, but he knew more than Draco did, he was sure. Harry found himself wondering what it would be like to be in the teacher's position for once, rather than the one learning. It had always been someone else teaching him. Cho had been a bad example, but Ginny... they had experimented and learned together for a while, until the breakup. Despite not being together for long, they had been exploring each other roughly once or twice a day (outside Ginny's period, which she was terribly shy about) for almost five months. They even had a notebook of the things they liked to refer to, which both of them now used as a reference to plan future excursions. And before Ron had told him, Harry had no idea that a frequent writer's palms were sensitive. It was as good an erogenous zone as any if you were going for subtlety.

Draco might appreciate that kind of experience.

Since Naga were inherently seductive creatures, even thinking about Draco so intimately gave him ideas he hadn't even considered before. He already knew that anything involving Harry's mouth would make him uncomfortable until he achieved human form, that playing with his hair and scalp would get results, and that he would likely prefer slowly increasing pressure rather than soft or firm from the start. It was instinctive, he assumed. Part of what he was. Nagas specifically gained power by being good at what they did, and it made sense that they would be very good at it. Harry could already envision burying his fingers in that blonde hair, playing his tongue along his palms and inner thighs, gripping those slender ankles and spreading his long thin legs to make him blush.

Harry knew Draco was a light sleeper, but he wanted to get a better look so he could muse a bit more. The offer was tempting. Very, very tempting. But it was also something Harry would have to think about at length or he was certain he would end up regretting it, or Draco would. Honestly the latter worried Harry more than the former, because if it was only him worrying about it than at least he hadn't done a friend any harm.

It wouldn't cover all of him, but the Invisibility Cloak was nearby in Draco's pack. Silently, stealthily, Harry opened it and draped it over what little of him it would cover. Only the top half was concealed, though it hardly mattered with him leaning near the side of the bed. Harry curled around the base and looked through the cloak at the sleeping blonde.

Harry was only there a moment or two when the apparently slumbering blonde suddenly planted his heel firmly in Harry's stomach. The Naga let out a surprised whoosh of breath and gagged. "What the bloody hell was that for?" he demanded when he could breathe again.

Draco sneered at him from the bed and grasped at air until he had the cloak in hand and yanked it off. "The cloak makes you i_nvisible_, not _inaudible_, you simpleton! If you're trying to sneak up on someone don't breathe through your mouth. And stop hovering over me like that; it's creepy!" A simple flick of his wand and the pillows from the bed came to life and began beating Harry like overly friendly feather-filled bludgers.

Well, at least Draco was still within his normal range of behavior, Harry mused to himself. That would either make this more or less bearable – he couldn't tell which yet. It might have been good in the short term for the prat to let Harry take control of the situation, but then that kind of thing would make Harry feel guilty as hell later on. At least if he was difficult to begin with Harry would know this wasn't about to make him into a completely different person to interact with. "Ow, ow! Alright, alright, I surrender!" he laughed when the onslaught had forced him a good fifteen feet away. He put his hands on his hips and smiled when Draco summoned his pillows back without allowing them to touch the floor even once. "Are you always this cranky when you wake up?"

"YES," he said tersely. "Get used to it, because I don't plan on changing."

"You wouldn't be half as much fun if you changed," Harry noted. "Speaking of which, you must have noticed me moving around, huh, Mr. Light Sleeper?"

Draco frowned. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know what Hermione gave you." Harry paused to think a moment. "On a related note, if I buy the ingredients and such will you make contraceptive potions? A lot of contraceptive potions? There are enough Weasleys at the moment without my friends making another branch on that tree just yet."

"THAT was an image I didn't need. Stay on subject, will you?" Draco groaned wearily.

"Well?"

Draco sighed. "Yes, that's an endeavor we can both agree on. I'll make your bloody potions, but I won't be held responsible if Weasley doesn't take them on time."

It was an odd thing that Wizarding males took the potions rather than the females, but it wasn't about hormone control here: it was about responsibility for your seed. The men were primarily responsible for birth control, and if they failed the resulting offspring was entirely their responsibility, within marriage or not. Harry had once thought that Muggle alimony and child support was bad due to a neighbor on Privet Drive that cried every time his mail came on the first Wednesday of the month. They had NOTHING on irresponsible Wizards.

Harry nodded. "Alright, fair enough. I can't say that I'd blame Ron for skipping out though - Hermione's more than ready and I was tempted once or twice to ask Ginny if early was ok. But aside from that - I did hear a good bit. Will you tell me what putting the cloak on you meant, if it's so important?"

The atmosphere in the room changed immediately.

"It's a symbol of protection." Draco was in his 'teacher voice' now. "When Granger said that magic clings to symbolism she was correct. This effect is especially powerful if it's an enchanted item or an heirloom that is involved. In this case it was both. When you put your cloak on me, without my asking, you were giving me security and care regardless of my wishes. Family does that, or Lords to their Vassals. Nobody else." Draco crossed his arms. "Which is it then? Do you intend to activate this in your own image and become my Lord?" Draco held out his left arm as he said so, and the dull red scarred form of the inactive Dark Mark there caught Harry's eye instantly.

"Merlin, no! Are you mad?" Harry actually shrank back in revulsion. "Marking is something farmers do to cattle or researchers to specimens, not people to other people! Unless they're completely off their rockers, that is."

The blonde's hard stare softened and he lowered his arm. "I'd like to know what you intend for me, then. Harry, I am perfectly aware you had no idea what you were doing when you saved me, and gave me your heirloom, and kept offering to give me sanctuary. But not knowing the effect those things would have on the debts I owe you don't change what it means. Even a scatterbrain ought to know that seven is a magical number. Even the Weasleys got their treasured and sought after daughter on the seventh try."

"You do not owe me seven life-debts," Harry drawled. "No way."

"It doesn't have to be a life-debt to count. Our debts are so complicated it's difficult to tell who owes what. You almost killed me once- (Harry winced) –but you saved my life three times in the final battle." Draco listed darkly. "And-"

"No, I saved your life twice. Once from the Fiendfyre, and once from that random Death Eater you didn't notice," Harry argued. "And some of that was Ron and Hermione anyway."

Draco crossed his arms. "May I finish?" Harry sighed and motioned for him to continue uninterrupted. "Thank you. Now, you were involved in both, even if you weren't the only one. As for the third, you walked to your death for everyone, didn't you? The entire world. That includes me."

Since Draco had paused Harry took the chance to speak. "But if you look at it that way, it means the whole world owes me a life-debt."

"That's an entirely different matter. I'm talking about compounded debts, not one or two. Shut up, will you?" Draco snapped.

"Sorry-"

"Don't be sorry, be quiet!" he snapped again, more harshly this time. Thankfully, Harry obeyed, though he made a show of glowering about it. "Good. Now, that makes three from the final battle. Then, as we went along, you kept doing more. You returned my wand after winning it fairly, which you were under absolutely no obligation to do. That qualifies as a gift of massive proportions as well as valor, and that's number four. You offered me sanctuary in the chamber fifth, which I eventually accepted. Then you gave me the cloak…"

"Six," Harry counted, eyes wide. "And then I saved you from getting abducted and Godric only knows what else in the hall."

"Seven," Draco nodded. "That last one is almost equivalent to another life-debt, because you saved both my reputation and my honor, and spared me some torment. We both know what they were planning for me." Draco had by now given up on trying to keep Harry quiet. He just sent resentful looks every time the Naga opened his mouth.

Harry palmed his face. "If you didn't want all seven active debts then why did you accept the offer to come here if it would have completed some 'magic number' rule?"

Draco sneered out of habit before groaning and slumping into a pout. "Because I'm _scared_, Harry. Can you blame me? You've already gone out of your way to help me no matter what, so you would have fulfilled the seventh debt on your own eventually anyway."

Harry had to admit Draco had a point there. "So what does it all mean? I thought there weren't any debts between friends? I mean Ron owed me a life-debt and its never come up. I saved Ginny in second year, and Arthur Weasley later on when I unintentionally got a vision of an attack on him in time to get help. None of those seem to matter, do they?"

Draco hesitated. "That's because you're all friends with each other."

Something about the way Draco phrased that made Harry frown. "You're saying that I'm your friend… but you're not mine?"

"I don't trust easily," Draco snapped fiercely, defensively. "The only person in the world I truly trust carried me as a part of herself for the better part of a year. Everyone else, even my Father, _has let me down_. Repeatedly. I stopped making friends in second year when I could feel the tension in my home deeply enough to keep me from sleeping at night. Before you started targeting me with your bloody hero complex I didn't think I'd survive three weeks past the _Avus Revelare_ before falling into an arranged marriage or worse. And now it's like I can't escape you! You follow me in the halls to keep attackers away, you're always in my ironically named 'safe rooms' to keep me company, you keep giving me things I don't deserve. I feel trapped, damn you, and it's disturbing me because I find myself somehow comforted by that. I'm a Malfoy! I shouldn't like being owned!"

Harry had been getting more and more amazed, and not in a good way at all, as Draco spoke. "Wait, wait. Owned? No way. You said yourself there were no debts between friends so-"

"Exactly! You're an ally to me, now, after so much has happened. I didn't even consider you that before you saved me directly in the hall. When those debts were either made or offered I did not think of you as a friend or ally, I still don't think of you as a friend, so my debts are active!" Draco was standing now, and if Harry were still human than Draco would be taller at this point as he yelled. "You decided to be my friend, whether I wanted it or not, a while ago. Your debts to me are gone for the same reason you don't owe any Weasleys! It doesn't work with friends or family because that's an act of love. Life-debts only affect enemies or allies, because it has to be an act of _mercy_. Something you were under absolutely no obligation or responsibility to do. Changing me to a friend in your mind cancelled all that."

Harry suddenly became incredulous. This sounded like a load of shite to him. He narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms, and gave Draco his best, 'are you serious?' stare. He imagined he must look a bit like McGonagall glaring at Ron because his water goblet was furry and had a tail. "If the magic you're listing is that strong I would have felt it by now, new body or not. How much of this is really magic and how much is Pure-Blood Tradition tripe used to gain advantage over allied forces?"

Draco faltered. "The life and honor debts are real, magically. The rest wouldn't matter if not for this bloody Mark." He grasped his arm. "I'm already marked as a vassal. The things you're doing could- I'm about to trust you with information not even the Headmistress has shared with you-"

"I defeated your Lord, so technically the surviving Death Eaters are mine to claim if I chose to activate the marks." Harry stated blandly, as if he were Binns reading a particularly boring lecture on the history of farming laws. "It's a basic tenet of Lordship Bonds that any student can look up in the Restricted Section in the Library with a pass that I had to barter detention time for, and believe me helping organize that library is a pain in the arse." Harry sighed. "And your mark would be especially easy to activate for me because it was made while I still had an active link to the old snake when he accepted you. It's partially mine already since his core and mine were connected at the time, as is any other mark he made after he gave me this scar."

Draco paled and fell back onto the bed weakly. "How-?"

"I looked it up when I had a weird sense of loss after they all got carted away to Azkaban. I've known since the day after the battle," Harry shrugged. "It isn't something I'd do or care about, so I just let it alone after I found out what that feeling was."

Draco took a moment to mull that over. "You're passing the opportunity to be a Lord, Harry."

Harry snickered, chuckled, and finally let out peals of laughter. "What the bloody hell would I be like as a LORD, Draco? I couldn't even get my owl to stop screeching at me, let alone Hermione to stop smacking me in the head with books! What would I do with vassals? I'd be overrun."

"You would learn," the blonde said, unamused and still shocked. "Eventually you would adjust."

"Yeah," Harry snorted. "I'm pretty sure I'd adjust as well as a cat learning to fly a kite. With my luck the kite would even get hit by lightning. Twice."

That finally did it and Draco's fears he had been keeping to himself all this time shattered like glass. He snorted. "That… is a fair point."

Harry looked down at the blonde and shook his head. "Up till now you thought I would eventually do that, didn't you? That's the reason for the distance and initial ire."

"As I said," Draco sneered, ", I don't trust easily."

"We'll have to work on that if you're going to help me," Harry said seriously. "What did your divinations say?"

"I never asked. I was afraid of the answer. There's a difference between having hope of escaping a new Lord and being told to lie down and accept it." Draco said slowly.

Harry nodded. "Okay, that's a fair point. I have a proposition, though."

"What?" Draco demanded, taking out the bottle Hermione had given him and setting it by the bed on the small side table. He took off his outer robe and shoes.

"Instead of worrying about these bonds, or this Lord thing, why don't we try to get you to the point of being friends with me?" Harry suggested. Answering what Draco seemed to be projecting as a casual attitude to the whole thing, Harry took off his armlets and collar.

Draco scoffed. "I would agree to that, except you haven't gotten close to the level of trust yet."

"Let's give it a shot, then. You're the only one that can tell me what that requires, aren't you? Tell me."

Draco pulled his shirt over his head, buttons still attached and all, and glowered. "Let's just get this over with," he said angrily.

Harry wound around him, smiling. "That's not how I do this. You'll just have to put up with me."


	15. Shape and Stability

akj: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I haven't gotten too many reviews praising the actual research portion of the writing. I really appreciate it when people notice. This chapter will have a lot more of that practical knowledge, so I hope you enjoy it.

borderlinecrazy: Unfortunately when I wrote that I intended to imply that they planned to cull the peacocks before harvesting the feathers. I realize that didn't go through very well; sorry.

lookingthroughthemirror: See below; SEX. That's why. ^_^

delia cerrano: Oh, good. I was worried I made that too complicated, but I wrote it twice and couldn't think of a better way to explain it. I'm glad someone actually posted that they understood it.

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WARNING: SEX AHEAD. IF YOU ARE NOT PREPARED FOR NAGA/HUMAN THEN DO NOT CARRY ON, DO NOT PASS GO, DO NOT COLLECT 200 GALLEONS. (Censored reasonably for the Fanfiction . net version - for full explicit, please visit Adult Fanfiction . net. I respect the guidelines set forth by the moderators.)

Note: We now enter into the 'square peg, round hole' problem. Or, if you prefer, "Why creature fics should be VERY CAREFULLY PLANNED before establishing the pairing." Another great annoyance of mine is that some authors write pairings that are... well, physically the equivalent of trying to fit a bus through a cat door. Astroglide, whether magical or not, can only do so much damn it! Please keep basic human dimensions and capabilities in mind while writing anything concerning Centaurs, is all I'm trying to say.

Sorry this is late: editing was a bitch. I wanted it to be perfect given it's one of the most important parts of the entire story. Please let me know if you like it, and if it was worth the wait.

Also note: These people are British. As such 'trousers' are pants and 'pants' are boxers. Please don't get the two confused. When the text says 'pants' they are referring to underwear, ok?

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_"Anyone who is observant, who discovers the person they have always dreamed of, knows that sexual energy comes into play before sex even takes place. The greatest pleasure isn't sex, but the passion with which it is practiced. When the passion is intense, then sex joins in to complete the dance, but it is never the principal aim." ~ Paulo Coelho_

_...continues from previous chapter_

"Instead of worrying about these bonds, or this Lord thing, why don't we try to get you to the point of being friends with me?" Harry suggested. Answering what Draco seemed to be projecting as a casual attitude to the whole thing, Harry took off his armlets and collar.

Draco scoffed. "I would agree to that, except you haven't gotten close to the level of trust yet."

"Let's give it a shot, then. You're the only one that can tell me what that requires, aren't you? Tell me."

Draco pulled his shirt over his head, buttons still attached and all, and glowered. "Let's just get this over with," he said angrily.

Harry smiled and wound around him, smiling. "That's not how I do this. You'll just have to put up with me."

"Put up with you?" Draco scoffed. "Isn't that what I've been doing from the start?"

Harry snickered as he hovered over the blonde who, obligingly, lay back on the bed to allow it. "Yes," he said, "and very well." Careful of his claws, Harry began to undress the Slytherin, ready to pause at the first protest. None came. "Would you mind telling me if there's anything you aren't willing to do?" By the time he had said all this he had fumbled with the button on Draco's trousers long enough to cause both himself and the other young man annoyance.

"I'm not a bloody prude or anything, but you'd better not try to put any part of me in that fox-trap of a mouth, Harry, or I'll hex your bollocks off even if I have to perform minor surgery to locate them." Draco smacked Harry's hands away to undo his own damned button since the Naga's claws were giving him considerable difficulty.

Harry crossed his arms and watched this appreciatively as more pale skin was exposed by the second. "What about that Castitas Virtue stuff you threw at me before?"

"Please," Draco snorted. "It was a Traditional value I could put up as a shield between me and those tossers to stall for time until they really started to get desperate. I only said it on reflex to you after repeating it a dozen times to those twits hounding me before you arrived. I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me that you were clueless on what it was. Now I'm just surprised you believed it all."

Draco neatly folded both shirt and trousers once they were off and put them in the bedside drawer rather than let them get soiled or wrinkled by the upcoming activity, then commanded Harry to hang his robe up like a civilized person and not leave it draped over the headboard like a common heathen. Harry began to wonder if his original thought of it being better if Draco simply let him take control would work out if the Slytherin was just going to keep ordering him around like his busboy. Then he began to notice the telltale signs of nervous embarrassment starting to show; the slight flush that was very visible on such pale skin, less direct eye contact than was normal for him, and the fact that he had yet to remove his pants.

Harry smiled and hung up the robe. "What have you done, then?" he asked.

"All the normal things a bloke our age usually does. Wanking, snogging, heavy petting,": he listed easily. "And a few weeks ago I had an interlude with Astoria Greengrass. It was rather disappointing. I thought she was legitimately interested and she might have been, but she ran off not long after so she could brag to her sister about having 'caught' me after timing the days in her cycle right. She was adorably furious when she realized I had taken precautions." Draco looked, for a moment, legitimately disappointed that either she, or anyone, had used him that way. "That was when the ambush attacks started getting really creative."

"I'm sorry," Harry said honestly. "I can tell you liked her."

"For a bit, yes," Draco allowed. "But I won't tolerate deception. Her loss."

"Yes it is, and my luck it seems."

Draco looked up at him impatiently. "Get on with it," he snarked.

Harry paused. Something about the situation seemed off all of a sudden and he wasn't sure how he knew it, but he did. It was no longer obvious how to proceed. "Get on with what, exactly?" At Draco's questioning look Harry removed his clothing (that he still thought of as an apron) to reveal the prominent erection he had gotten from the simple act of undressing the other young man. Instantly Draco realized the problem as well.

"That isn't going to fit," he said warily. "A girl, maybe, but not me; at least not without practice with progressively larger toys first."

Harry sighed in frustration. "Even then you'd have to know how to prepare yourself, since I can't do it with these claws in the way, but you don't, do you?"

"Haven't had to before, have I?" Draco drawled. "And those claws also make giving me a wank inadvisable. That wouldn't help anyway because you have to be inside me somehow for this to work. You won't gain any magic otherwise."

Harry growled, his frustration with the situation only getting worse as the conversation and deliberation went on. "You've already forbidden me from using my mouth since you don't trust my teeth. I don't suppose you'd let me use my tongue-"

"Do you want to keep your bollocks?" Draco snapped venomously.

"Alright, so what do we do then?" Harry demanded. "I didn't think this was going to be so bloody difficult once we actually got to it."

Draco ran his hands through his hair. "It should have occurred to me though. Most of the actual sexual research I did was when you were a more manageable size. A woman wouldn't have as much problem since they're actually designed to stretch. Hell, even a Centaur can bugger a woman safely if they're careful enough, whereas a bloke is libel to die of a perforated colon."

Harry winced. "NOT an image I need right now!"

"Sorry," Draco whined.

They were silent a while. Eventually Draco spoke again. "I'll suck you off, then."

Harry looked at his girth and thought that might be doable, if difficult. "Do you think you can manage it?"

"I'll have to try, won't I?" Draco snarked. "We haven't got many options, you great behemoth."

"What about you? You have to come while I'm in you, remember? That's the only way I'll get a charge," Harry reasoned.

Draco brazenly held up his right hand. "I suppose I'll have to take care of that as well."

Harry's eye twitched. He was seriously beginning to get annoyed with how utterly useless he was turning out to be. "Doesn't leave me with much to do, does it?" he hissed furiously. His frustration was causing his arousal to flag and Draco frowned when he noticed it.

"Look, if you were having me do all the work on purpose I'd be just as annoyed as you are, but as it is we're just dealing with the cards we've been dealt. This isn't about sex; it's about keeping you from starving to death. I don't want you to die, Harry, odd as that may seem after our first six years at school together. If you'd like to pay me back for it when you achieve human form you can." Draco's speech was meant to placate, yet it had Harry smiling wickedly at him.

"You're willing to have sex with me again?" he asked, obviously pleased with the prospect.

Draco held his head high and crossed his arms. "I would think after all I've been through being willing to do this in the first place would adequately express my interest in a relationship."

Harry chuckled. "Forgive me if 'This cancels a life-debt you bastard' doesn't exactly inspire confidence in my chances."

"I didn't know you were awake!" Draco snapped hotly.

Harry put an overly dramatic hand over his chest. "I'm dating a man that yells at me while I'm unconscious."

"The correct term is _courting_, you-" Draco began angrily.

Then Harry began to list, counting on his fingers. "Imbecile, Simpleton, Neanderthal, Moron, and loads of other things you like to call me. I know."

The silence that followed was, for once, comfortable. Harry had spoken fondly and without irritation, and it was clear that no argument was forthcoming. The pleasant feeling lingered in the air a while before Harry 'sat' on the bed and held out his hand. "Shall we?"

Draco nodded and put his hand in Harry's. It had been long enough. He leaned over to face Harry's lap and hesitated only a moment. He had done this to himself many times, so using his hand to restore Harry to full mast was only awkward for a moment or two. Harry let out a small sigh and let his head fall back, his tail winding up one of the bed posts in reaction. It was definitely true that Naga were fueled by sex because, as Draco continued, Harry's almost constant dizziness began to ebb. Draco had gotten completely on the bed to improve his working angle just after starting, which allowed Harry to slide a hand down his smooth back. Though he appreciated the feel of that white skin, Harry frowned when the tips of his fingers encountered the waistband of the pants Draco was still wearing. The Naga found that he would very much like to see the swells of a heart-shaped, pert bottom while he was being sucked off.

"Are you going to take those off?" he asked breathlessly.

Draco didn't look up from what he was doing. "I don't see why I should since you won't be able to see me wanking from that angle, and I can just pull out of them."

It almost sounded like a legitimate excuse, but given the situation it clearly wasn't. For some reason the Slytherin was actually being shy about this, and for the life of him Harry couldn't think of a legitimate reason that Draco should HAVE to take his pants off besides wanting to see his arse - until he saw his tail wound around the bedpost directly behind the bottom he wanted to see.

Suddenly Harry had a vile, wicked idea.

Actually he had a good, wicked idea, but he doubted Draco would agree with him.

Despite its strength and thick skin the actual end of his tail was surprisingly smooth with the surface itself resembling a longer, thinner version of a Rattlesnake tail without the great bulges and sounds. Yes, it was meant to be a bloody effective offensive weapon; a hammer with the ability to smash anything that it hit. It was also smooth, long, and most importantly only an inch or so wide at the tip, which didn't get dramatically thicker for six inches or so; perhaps three in diameter at the most, which was a lot but not terrible if Harry didn't press it in too far. It was certainly not so thick that it couldn't go where he needed it to. The slope was gradual enough that even preemptive preparation would be unnecessary if they slicked it up enough. Careful, slow penetration would be enough work on its own.

"What about my tail?" he asked, putting his hand under the blonde's chin just as he prepared to begin taking Harry's length into his mouth. "What are you on about now? I'm busy," Draco snapped.

"My tail," Harry repeated. He unwound the thick length and brought it around the blonde's exposed thigh, winding around that instead. The top of it he ran up the leg and inside the loose leg of the pants to curl up over the bare bottom within.

Draco startled forward for a moment in surprise, but understood the meaning instantly. Pausing in his work, he sat back and pulled the appendage out of his remaining clothing and looked at the tip consideringly. "Do you have control of the bloody thing? I saw it smash stone to bits not long ago, so letting you put it in my arse is rather daunting."

"Complete control," Harry assured him. "It's the right size and I can't have you doing all the work, can I?" The pause while Draco considered this went on longer than Harry liked, so he continued. "We saw it in the books, remember?"

"Alright, fine," Draco relented. "I suppose it'll be good insurance in the event our original plan doesn't work out."

Harry beamed at him. "Thank you. Now that we have the puzzle figured out; you do your part and I'll do mine."

Draco sighed and sat back on the bed. "Alright, but this is bloody awkward leaning over like that. Could you try rearing up from the floor so I can at least sit up?"

Harry honestly hadn't thought of that, but it sounded like a good idea, especially if it would make things easier. He slid off the bed and onto the floor. The Slytherin was still on this knees on the mattress, but now he was able to remain mostly upright like he wanted to. From there Harry reared up on his tail until Draco gave him the signal that he was at the right height for what they intended to do. While Draco finally moved to take off his pants Harry wound his tail under the bed to both support himself for more stability and get at Draco's arse without straining for length by winding round the other way; long as it was there was plenty left for Harry to have a round coil under him before looping under the bed, so he was well and stable. The blonde retrieved the little bottle Hermione had given him and applied a thick coat of it to the tip of Harry's tail, where it clung stubbornly where it had been put without running off as all good Wizarding lubricants did.

"Ready?" Harry asked anxiously. The wait of simply figuring out HOW the two of them could fit together given the extreme physical differences had gotten him rather pent-up, and he just wanted to get TO it already.

"Yes, Draco answered. He arranged himself the most comfortable way he could - sitting up on his knees with his legs apart for balance and to grant Harry access for his tail, and his left arm wrapped around the Naga's waist for further support.

Draco still had the lubricant on his hand after applying it to Harry's tail and he began spreading it over his own flaccid length while experimentally taking Harry into his mouth. It was a difficult fit, especially given the obstacle of avoiding his teeth, but he managed well enough.

Harry threw his head back and groaned deeply. He could feel small tingles of power where their bodies met, and Draco's mouth was hot and wet and surprisingly tight. "That's bloody fantastic," Harry rasped. The Slytherin scraped his nails along the Naga's side to tell him to shut up and Harry chuckled in answer while Draco began to suck and bob his head in an attempt to take more in.

From their link Harry could actually sense Draco's pleasure build while he fondled himself and began to rise, which made sense because it was the Naga's partner gaining pleasure that generated the magic; not the Naga's own. Harry licked his lips and looked back down so that he could see what he was doing and ran his slick tail along the cleft of that pale, flawless bottom. When there was no protest (not that he expected any) Harry positioned the tip at the small ring of muscle that was just out of his sight and pushed gently. Draco grunted around the girth in his mouth but didn't otherwise complain, so Harry continued by sliding the short length further bit by bit with small, slow thrusts. The Naga couldn't actually feel from his tail the warm tunnel it was in since that particular appendage wasn't meant to feel the pain from smashing things to shrapnel, but he could perceive from his bond with Draco that he wasn't going too far.

Harry could sense that something was wrong, though, and he looked to the blonde's face for a clue. Instantly he realized what the problem was. Just as sticking something as massive as an adult Naga's cock in a human male's arsehole was likely to cause injury without extensive preparation and training beforehand; attempting to fit something of that size in a human's mouth without sufficient practice was equally impractical. Draco couldn't fit much of the length in, and while the width wasn't actually hurting him the effort of accommodating it without muscle strain was proving too arduous.

Harry swore and cupped Draco's face with one hand, guiding him back. "Shit. Stop; don't gag yourself. Just use your other hand, alright?"

The Slytherin pulled off gratefully and took a few deep breaths. "Sorry," he gasped, looking slightly ashamed of himself.

"Don't be. My tail should take care of the contact I need. That's not hurting you, is it?"

Draco shook his head. "No. No, that's... good." Struck by a sudden inspiration, Draco used his position to his advantage. Since his hand itself was rather small in comparison to what he was meant to wrap it around; he smeared the remaining lubricant on his left hand over the curve of his shoulder and neck and lay Harry's girth there, creating a makeshift tunnel for the Naga to thrust into by firmly gripping the other side of his cock with his left hand. Harry grunted and instantly did so.

There was very little talking after that.

In fact; everything happened rather quickly.

Harry thrust into the space Draco had cleverly provided for him and Draco bucked against the tail while he wanked. The only change over time was the increased pace: the sound of panting, groaning, and the slide of skin on skin intensified; the sound of slapping flesh became more frequent; and the smell of sweat filled the air thicker and thicker as time wore on. As the pressure grew and the pace peaked Harry could feel something like a great wave crashing over him and it had nothing to do with his own impending orgasm. It had everything to do with Draco's. The Naga found himself paying more attention to his point of connection with his lover than his cock. He grasped Draco's shoulders to still him and thrust his tail faster, leaving the blonde with nothing to do but grip Harry's cock over his shoulder and squirm. The pace of his right hand quickened and matched the pace of the thrusts and went on for a minute or so before he began to whine.

"Harry, I'm coming," he warned through clenched teeth.

"I know," Harry said because, strangely, he did. "Go on."

Only seconds later the Slytherin pressed his face into Harry's side and yelled out as his white seed spilled onto the bed. At that very moment the influx of generated magic threw Harry over the edge as well and he hissed obscenities in Parseltongue as his come flooded out over Draco's back and ran down his arse and legs.

When he came down off his high Draco drew back and made a disgusted face when he saw the mess bleeding out over his backside and onto the blankets he had planned to sleep in just after this. He had known Naga produced a lot of semen from the books he had read, but the sheer amount oozing over his back might have drowned him if they had persisted in attempting the first plan. It was easily over two cups of slimy fluid rather than the human amount of only a tablespoon or so and it clung to him like warm pudding. He turned to give Harry an evil glare in retaliation but stopped short when he saw the state the Naga was in.

There was a vortex of power surrounding the Naga, who had reared up so much that he was only barely supported by the length of his tail in an incomplete circle beneath him. His torso hung back limply as if he were being supported by the magic alone instead of simply the suddenly increased strength in his tail. As the vortex, which was invisible yet clearly felt by the Slytherin watching, began to absorb into Harry's body his colors turned brighter until it seemed like he was glowing like a lamp in the dark Chamber of Secrets. Harry took great gulps of air and growled fiercely under the onslaught of this great rush of energy Draco had given him, and when he finally settled back down and stood upright his eyes glowed so brightly that it was impossible to tell the iris and cornea apart – the entire eye was a solid green orb with a mere black slit barely visible in the center.

"Do it now!" Draco shouted at him urgently.

Harry turned to look at him in bewilderment. "What?" he asked dizzily.

"The Kata, you idiot! Try the Kata!"

A slight nod was his only response before Harry took the pose, then began it. Far from the appearance of someone learning to hold a sword for the first time as had been the case last time Harry did this, it now looked as if the Naga was taking a stance as natural as a cat folding their legs underneath their body to bask in the sun. Then, fluidly as water, Harry began to dance. With every pose and pause Draco could sense waves of energy bleeding off of Harry like a heartbeat echoing in dead silence. Pulse after pulse reverberated through the chamber until the air itself seemed to shimmer with the promise of a great work of magic about to occur. The last stance done, Harry held himself there.

And then he began to morph.

It was fast, as well done as McGonagall leaping off her desk as a cat and landing as a human.

Harry stood on two legs and smiled at the blonde. "How do I look?" he asked, arms spread wide for appraisal. He did have a full human form, though he was larger than he had been before; particularly in terms of sculpted, lean muscle. Everything about him in shape and size was successfully human, though, and Draco let out a little breath of relief that they wouldn't have to repeat what they had just done again for lack of reasonable options given size difference.

Draco mentally shook himself. He was a Malfoy, damn it, and wasn't about to give away how impressed he actually was. Not to Harry bloody Potter. "Like you've been accosted by a roving band of modern artists armed with watercolors," he sniped.

Harry blinked and looked down. "…why am I still blue, black, and red?" he grumbled, and then snarled when he realized he still had all that hair as well.

Draco sighed and began to wipe himself off with the blanket, which he tossed aside angrily when it did little more than spread the mess around instead of taking it off. "Because you're a Naga in human form, not a human; you're not going to look precisely human ever again. You'll have to learn some Glamours to hide the natural colors, which should work well enough if you want to walk around without being stared at. The instructions are in the book just after the Kata. Not much you can do about the claws or your eyes, though."

Harry looked at his hands and feet, realizing he still had them; bright blue, sharp and threatening just to see. "Bollocks."

"Indeed. Do you need your glasses?"

Harry looked to Draco and found he didn't need to focus. A wry smile came to his face that utterly failed to make him look guilty. "Apparently not. You're a mess."

"**_Thank you_**," Draco hissed indignantly. "I am aware of that. Your fault, isn't it?"

Harry chuckled. "Sorry; I'll sneak you into the Prefect's Bath. It's late enough that no one should be there."

"I'm not a Prefect, Harry; that was revoked from me after last year. And the Gryffindor bath is likely occupied by Weasly and his future Missus. How do you intend to do that?" Draco snapped.

"Most everything in the Dungeons opens to a Parseltongue command. Show me where the Slytherin Prefect's Bath is and we'll use that one." Harry shrugged.

Draco growled unhappily to himself and palmed his forehead. "Fine, but you'll have to wear my robe on the way there, unless you'd like to put on your Naga attire and have your arse displayed for the world to see." It was true, really; the Naga clothing didn't typically have more than a one-way flap in front. Draco's robe would be a bit small on Harry, who was larger in his human form as a Naga than he had been as a plain human, but it would have to do.

Harry flushed a bit. "Thanks. We'll stop by our rooms to get us another change of clothes on the way."

Draco sorted as he stood. "They're our rooms now?"

"Well, I have clothes there too in case the Kata had worked before." Harry reasoned.

Draco smirked at him, "You realize your uniforms aren't going to fit? You've gained three sizes."

"Oh, hell. What else?" Harry whined.

When they were ready and heading toward the exit, Harry put his arm around the blonde's shoulder. "This makes me your personal bodyguard, you know."

Draco scoffed. "I'd be livid if you refused."

Smiling, Harry leaned in… and suddenly felt Draco's slender hand clamp over his mouth.

"No."

"…what?" he asked, leaning back until the hand moved.

"I've seen what you've been eating the last month, Harry. You're not putting that mouth on mine until you've eaten proper food for a week," Draco's lips curled wickedly. "And I've watched you brush your teeth at least twenty times."

Harry stared, aghast. "You are telling me we just had sex not fifty feet from the decaying remains of a bloody Basilisk and I'm _not allowed to kiss you_?"

"Correct, though you threw that in the water." Draco looked on the verge of laughter in his eyes, but the rest of his face remained an irritating mask of propriety. "And we didn't technically have sex, it was creative masturbation."

Harry growled. "Look, you-"

As the Chamber echoed with the rising fire of what promised to be a very satisfying row, Harry realized two things; one, if nothing else he and Draco were going to be an interesting and entertaining couple and two, Harry was most definitely not the one in charge.

Damn it.


	16. It Only Gets Better From Here

All: I'm really surprised nobody commented on a prissy thing like Draco being covered in massive amounts of semen and being grossed out by it. I thought that was a pretty hilarious moment.

Thank you for all the encouragement and positive comments throughout this tale: it really helped.

I will do my best to make the rest of my stories on equal or better quality than this one for all of you.

* * *

Early morning by the lake was beautiful and calm. The air was cool and moist with dew that hadn't settled on the plants just yet. Mist hung thickly around them in the pocket of colder air over the water like a shroud of privacy to keep out unwanted interruption, and the sound of insects chirping and buzzing at each other in their own little voices created a relaxing chorus of white noise. Occasionally a splash could be heard along the water as a fish would leap up to snap at a bug that had gotten too close to the placid surface. All of this was happening in the dull light of the sun shining low and just past the point of all the fantastic colors of the sunrise they had all watched over the hill nearby with hot mugs of tea in their hands while they had sat on blankets and leaned against each other to keep warm.

It was the perfect time to catch fish – they were feeding, it was still cold in the water without the sun having warmed it so the fish would be a little sluggish, and the rest of the day lay ahead of them with a sense of promise.

Draco swore in French for the fifth time as he unsuccessfully tried to attach the lure to his line; which was better than the twelve times he'd done so when trying to get the hook on the line.

"Do you want me to-" Harry offered again, only to get his hand slapped away.

Draco scowled. "No, I don't want you to do it. I will."

Harry held his hands up in surrender and went to get their poles from the pliant young saplings growing not far away. Harry was still in his human form, though he switched back and forth with ease as he liked, but his claws were still available to clean the saplings of leaves and branches to make decent poles out of them. He tested them both for flexibility and strength, discarded one and got another to replace it. It had been too stiff.

The Glamour had been easy to learn. Though Harry retained the same shape and size of his admittedly different Naga-in-human-form body he was now the correct color. His claws and eyes remained mostly the same, and his hair absolutely refused to cut – it had grown back twice now in the span of an hour and Harry had given up. Draco was trying to teach him to braid it, but had ended up doing it himself the past three times.

Ron and Hermione sat in a little huddle while they expertly baited and fished with their completed poles; they did this far more often than Harry did. Once Draco learned how to do this properly he would take a weekend to see his family and show them to help get food on the table. They still stubbornly, proudly, infuriatingly refused to sell any of their land. Technically they still had a great deal of money in net worth, but they would live like paupers to keep it that way rather than sell their acres to furnish the Manor again. Harry supposed it was alright – if things turned out the way he hoped then he would be the one furnishing the Manor in a few years' time anyway when he moved in. Perhaps they would have calmed down enough to accept him by then.

Draco had been steadfast in his intention to 'allow' Harry courting him. Narcissa had been dubious at best whereas Lucius had flown into an impressive rage for twenty minutes while both his wife and son stared blankly at him until he relented and behaved. Harry had not only discovered that Draco was the least childish member of the family, he also learned that the blonde had inherited a lot more from his mother than was generally believed.

As far as Harry could tell, there was a great possibility that Narcissa had more pull in family affairs than her husband did.

Once Draco finally got his pole situated he and Harry took up their places and began to actually fish. Ron came over and explained to Draco how he'd be able to feel if a fish was biting on the line and such, and the blonde listened with rapt attention. He was, honestly, very determined to learn all of this and it was something they had all come to admire in him; the determination to be self-sufficient.

So long as Harry wasn't excluded from that vision, of course, if the fact that he'd been fetching things for him all morning wasn't ignored.

Eventually the quiet of the morning got to be too much for even those who were accustomed to it. Hermione craned her neck round Ron, who sat between them, and asked, "Does it feel odd to be on two legs again?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really, I was only wobbly for a bit. I got the hang of it really quick after that."

"He seems to get back on his scales like a fish to water, so I'm guessing that initial unsteady feeling is because he isn't actually meant for two legs anymore," Draco reasoned.

Ron sighed and cast again, putting more bait on after the last bit had been stolen. "It isn't as if he hasn't been a bit of a snake from the start."

"Was I?" Harry smiled.

"Yes," Ron and Hermione said at once.

"You guys don't mind that I'm so creepy now?" Harry asked, flicking his claws at them to demonstrate.

"NOW?" Ron balked. "Really, Mate?"

"There's a difference between looking creepy and being creepy, Harry," Hermione pointed out, laughing a little.

Harry crossed his arms, a bit put-out. "How am I creepy?"

"You heard voices in first year," Ron said plainly.

"That was the Basilisk," Harry defended.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "But we didn't know that for a good while, did we? All we knew was that you could hear voices and they were talking about killing."

"And you talk in your sleep," Draco added.

Deflating a bit, Harry frowned. "So?"

"In parseltongue," Hermione finished with a small smile. "That's how Ron opened the chamber, remember? He imitated what he could hear you'd been babbling on about every night."

Ron shuddered. "Do you have any idea how disturbing it is to wake up from a nightmare about giant spiders, which is your fault too, thanks, and hear your best friend hissing to himself not five feet away from you?"

"That's…" Harry began to protest weakly.

Hermione interrupted him. "And there were those times that you'd react to Voldemort's moods because of your bond and erupt into absolutely mad, homicidal laughter for no apparent reason-"

"Merlin, really?" Draco asked with sudden interest. "I didn't know about that!"

"ARE YOU ALL FINISHED!?" Harry roared, crossing his arms and scowling.

"I had more," Draco smiled deceptively sweetly, "but you go ahead."

The problem with glaring evilly at someone you share a bed with on a regular basis is that they know you won't actually do anything terrible to them and the effect is roughly that of trying to prevent a Mermaid invasion by flooding your house; it only encourages them. Harry gave up and stopped arguing about it, wordlessly agreeing that he was indeed creepy and communicating that he would very much like to drop the subject now.

"You really didn't know?" Draco pressed. "I'd have thought that first one was enough. A Gryffindor Parselmouth is not only creepy, but almost an oxymoron."

"Draco…" Harry warned tersely.

"The point being," the Slytherin continued relentlessly, "that you're not actually any different as a Naga. You're still you."

Harry had to admit that was a good point and went back to his fishing with a small smile.

Draco looked to Harry sitting in the grass and getting his trousers all wet whereas he had thought to bring a low chair to sit on. Even Ron and Hermione had done so as well, and Draco sniffed derisively. "Doesn't it bother you that you're getting soaked and filthy sitting there?"

"Please, I used to live in a cupboard," Harry drawled. "And I've been slithering on floors for weeks."

Draco's eye twitched. "I don't have time for your chronicles of valiant misfortune; now listen-" Harry looked pleased and thoughtful all of a sudden, which caused the Slytherin to pause. "What?"

"That would be an excellent band name," Harry professed.

Ron beamed. "I was thinking the same thing, Mate!"

Draco clenched his teeth and counted backward from seven to calm himself. He didn't know why seven worked better than ten, but it always did. When he was relatively certain the veins in his forehead weren't about to rupture anymore he continued. "Why do I bloody like you? You're an imbecile. As are you, Weasley."

"We're not that bad," Ron said.

"Yes," Hermine agreed. "After a certain amount of time you learn to tune them out."

"Hey!" Harry and Ron snapped in unison while Draco and Hermione snickered.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence broken only by the occasional catch. Eventually Harry decided he did want to take his Naga form and coiled up around Draco's chair in a way that allowed the blonde to drape himself over the thick tail in lieu of sitting back against his low chair.

Quietly enough so that their nearby friends didn't hear them, they began to talk again.

Harry started. "Do you think your Dad'll ever like me?"

"Make our family wealthy again and he'll be significantly less likely to kill you," Draco smiled.

"Uh-huh. That isn't why you're with me, is it?"

Draco gave him a jab with his elbow. "You'd better not be serious asking me that."

Harry shrugged. "It had crossed my mind. Especially with the dream you told me about just before we-"

"Stop talking. Now. You're starting to make it sound like I'm sleeping with you for money. I shall have to punish you if you keep going." Draco cast his line again and stuck the pole in the ground so he could turn and glare.

"Sorry," Harry said with a chuckle. "But you've got to admit-"

"I am going to drown you," Draco professed coldly.

Harry only had enough time to utter a confused, "Wha-?" before he was blasted into the lake.

"Malfoy, you're scaring the fish!" Ron yelped as he scowled at them.

"Thanks for the help, guys!" Harry snarled as he squirmed and thrashed and tried to get to shore, only for Draco to knock him back again and again every time.

"You can come out when you **apologize**," Draco hissed almost as impressively as Harry could. "_Properly_."

Hermione stood and hesitated when Ron didn't move. He was looking over at the two with a small, awkward smile. He didn't get a sense there was any danger. It actually reminded him a bit of the way his Mum and Dad used to fight when he was younger, when the stress of so many children and not enough money sometimes took its toll on their nerves. He could tell Harry and Malfoy would make up, like all well-suited couples did, and spend a few weeks in relative calm before they fought again. Eventually that cycle would settle down when they got used to the stress of their new relationship or the problems melted away in the face of a new sense of perspective.

"Should we help?" Hermione asked.

Ron joked, "Which one?" as he saw Harry use his Naga form and lunge at the blonde by using his tail to propel himself out of the lake with one great thrash. They wrestled on the ground like children bickering over a toy.

"Ron! Honestly…"

"They'll be fine, Hermione," he smiled at her confidently. "Trust me; they'll be just fine."

THE END

* * *

This story was only supposed to be ten chapters long. It was the first one I began writing after my years-long hiatus to slide me back into the habit of writing again, which is why I began it with a simple challenge by a friend when we were drinking last year – If you don't like the Naga fics you've read, then write one yourself. From that one sentence spawned Harry Potter and the Last True Pure-Blood, which I had carefully planned as a mere starter fic before it ran away with me around chapter three and became this monster. I hope you all liked reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Looking back it certainly helped me gear up for more complicated and detailed stories, as evidenced by the extreme change in quality between the first chapter and my other works. The story has run its course, though, and it is time to move on. Please stay tuned for more creature fics, as those are the only kind I seem to be interested in writing at the moment.

Until next time.


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